Lysithea found herself at Garreg Mach's library, staring curiously at an unfamiliar title nestled in the top shelves that had come with the newest shipment of books. What had caught her eye was the fact that the book was clearly a romance novel, and a sultry one from what she could see of its spine. It was quite noticeable among the library's collection as Seteth was normally so vigilant in preventing what he would view as illicit literature from entering the library. Perhaps he was still recovering from the shock of Flayn's kidnapping and rescue, and had made an error.

Nevertheless, Lysithea wanted that fucking book. The young mage's insatiable curiosity had been piqued. Additionally, the spicy tingling in her loins that teenagers have that makes them dumb as shit was urging her to grab the novel and retreat to her room posthaste. Alas, she was not tall enough to ride, and she spent about five minutes looking like a dumbass, straining to reach the shelf clearly out of her reach while one of the library ladders was only a few meters away. Hormones do that to people.

Suddenly, thunderous applause and studio laughter could be heard, startling Lysithea and everyone else enjoying independent reading time. Claude had entered the library.

"Hey squirt, isn't it past your bedtime?" the house leader greeted Lysithea at around four in the afternoon, "Now don't get short with me, but nobody will think little of you if you take a break. Don't you think you're studying too hard a tiny bit? I have some things I need to get done, but I'll do you a small favor and carry your books, it's the right thing to do as the bigger person. Also you're short, fuck you, you baby."

"Claude, you insufferable- so help me if you treat me like a child again, I'll cum!" she blurted out, growing thirstier by the second and fixating on Claude. To be fair, she couldn't really be blamed.

In the next 1.43 seconds, Lysithea's genius yet inexplicably horny mind explosively overclocked to correct her blunder, even as the words were leaving her lips. Before Claude's face could settle into an expression of either confusion, amusement, or horror, his classmate spoke again.

"I'll come-come for you with my m-magic!" she finished, barely straight-faced and fast enough to plausibly appear as indignant rather than licentious.

It appeared as if Claude was going to probe her further, but suddenly the tolling of a bell could be heard and the sky darkened. Somewhere in Garreg Mach, the Professor had used all his activity points and ended the day.

"It has been immensely draining talking to you Claude," she said to her house leader, "but it's late and I must be going."

Lysithea scuttled out of the library and toward her dorm as swift as the coursing river, which Claude just attributed to her fear of ghosts. Then she was accosted by Raphael who was in big brother mode.

"Hey Lysithea! Where are you going!? Want me to carry you!?" He bellowed.

The white-haired girl clenched everything, her usual irritation at The Big Man replaced by desire, "O-onii-chan..." she gasped under her breath as she broke out into a full sprint so he wouldn't notice her arousal.

Raphael walked at a brisk pace and caught up in seconds. He scooped her up and perched her on his shoulder.

"Woah! Here come the stairs!" exclaimed the humongoid as he galumphed down the steps, fortunately too stupid to notice how his passenger ground her core against his shoulder with the motion, nor her breath, which was becoming shorter than she was.

"Ah! Raphael, Lysithea, hello!" A meek yet happy voice greeted the two. It was Ignatz, diligently and deftly painting Portrait of the Goddess #538.

"Hey buddy!" Raphael bellowed like an excitable golden retriever while setting Lysithea down, "We were just heading to the dining hall, gotta eat while the getting's good, right!?"

As the friends began conversing about inconsequential bullshit, Lysithea inconspicuously walked away, gritting her teeth. Even Ignatz, whom she normally held in low regard, even scorn, was stirring up her perverse appetites by existing. The bespectacled boy was cute in his own way and her imagination was further deteriorating her self-control. The young mage balled her fists, tensing up as she thought of his fingers, so finesse in painting, and what they could do. She admired his gentle and soft hands, and how they would look folded on his knee like the Mona Lisa. Killer by Yugo Kanno played as she daydreamed about suckling on his digits. Lysithea almost didn't care that she was almost at her dorm, at this point she would drag off the next man she saw for breeding.

Lorenz galloped on a gallant steed to his fellow noble's side, smiling winningly, "Greetings Lysithea, might I-"

"Eat shit, Lorenz," Lysithea retorted, "fall off your horse!"

"OK," Purple Boy replied, crying, pissing his pants, and also shitting and cumming.

The instant that Lysithea shut the door to her room, she immediately self-cast Miasma to incinerate her clothes and began to furiously stroke her white-tufted quim.

"HNNNNNNNNGH," she moaned with much throatiness, but her dainty digits were inadequate. Her fingers were too small and delicate, and her vagina was so very large and hard.

While I was looking up synonyms for the moist female genitals, Lysithea reached under her bed and grabbed Thyrsus. She remembered the day she had acquired the staff fondly. Lorenz had finally won his father's approval and acquired the Gloucester Relic. The noble that he is, he gallantly gave the prize to their beloved professor...who immediately turned around and gave it to her. She still relished the crushed look on Lorenz's face as she produced a big red marker and wrote her name on the Relic. Then she proceeded to do the same to the professor, claiming both as her own and effectively shutting Purple Boy out of the class dynamic.

Anyway, Lysithea was doing the pussy poke with the staff so hard that now we have to call it Thrustyrsus. On top of increasing her magic attack range by two tiles, she also used it to increase the range of how deep she could fuck herself.

"Oh yes! This is successful self-gratification!" she screamed and writhed on her bed, one hand jerking the staff in and out, the other hand twiddling with the nipples on her double-crest flat chest. Her orgasm was on a one way trip to Flavortown, pushing closer to the edge as she imagined being caressed by her classmates, cramming a cheesecake up her asshole, and all of the dicks she had seen in her short life, which was less than one. Thrustyrsus was reaching impossibly deep, chipping away at her as it brushed her Bean and sending a jolt of pleasure each time it jabbed her prostate.

Squealing like a jar of angry balloons, she pissed the horny juice. "I-I AM ARRIVING!" she sang like a proud member of the Mittelfrank Opera Company, firing in spurts with direction and magnitude, legs spread like peanut butter, toes curling, also like peanut butter. As the last of the fresh slicky dribbled out of Lysithea's old scratch in a Fibonacci sequence over the sheets, her mind emptied of everything but pleasure and a comforting male voice.

"Part One: White Clouds," it said.

That was when Lysithea acknowledged what she had experienced. Lamenting that she had not entered the world of carnal delights sooner, she resolved that in the short time she had left in the world of the living, she would explore her delightful buttery body. She pulled Thrustyrsus out, brushing her rock solid clit which made a sound like the first chords of the Seinfeld theme. Then she snorted several grams of pure refined sugar cane to restore her energy.

Her eyes drifted to her desk, at which her Armored Bear Stuffy named Obama sat, a gift from Professor Byleth. Thoughts of her beloved professor just got her Soft & Wet, stealing the friction from her critchety crotch butterscotch. This is a cool literary technique called 「Foreshadowing」, in which Lysithea's impurest of thoughts of her professor hint to the reader that she and Byleth are going to bone later in this chapter, which happens.

Somewhere between being the biggest thot in the galaxy and having a glucose overdose, Lysithea's newest and dumbest idea was formulated, as if her thoughts were full of Worcestershire sauce. She was now on her desk, straddling Obama.

"Don't stop! Keep it coming!" she cried out, humping Obama as she imagined getting railed and impaled by the professor, of him pouring his baby batter into her ovulation oven so they could bake a goddamn child, and of him holding her hand and taking her out to the nice little bakery that she liked. Obama sat there and looked disappointed.

Stimulating herself in a haze of fantasies, Lysithea's slit was nearing another critical hit when she heard the rapid pounding of footsteps, preceding the sound of someone barging into her room. It was Professor Byleth, on the hunt for those Lost Items and Owl Feathers.

"P-professor!?" Lysithea screeched, pushing Obama away in embarrassment, who promptly bounced off the wall and fell, stewing on the floor in girl nectar and betrayal.

"Ha ha lol," Hilda chuckled at her horny housemate from out in the hallway.

"..." said the professor, making a sound like a deck of pancakes slapping onto syrup as his enormous beaver basher flopped out of his pantaloons and transitioned to hard. Byleth began to do The Floss so vigorously that his clothes came off, then gelled and bleached his hair to accommodate Lysithea's fetish for frosted tips as they reminded her of cake frosting. Finally, he materialized a dozen Tasty Baked Treats, cramming them down Lysithea's throat one by one.

"Professor," Lysithea moaned huskily, laying on her back on the desk and tearing her legs open invitingly like a bag of corn chips, "I need you inside me."

"Let the lesson begin!" Byleth roared as he took hold of his student's shoulders and fucked her in Maddening mode. It was unbearably tight, and he was reminded of the time last week when he was trying to get the last few Pringles out of the tube but his hand got stuck.

"AAÄÄAÖEOÖÖUÜUIIÜEA!" Lysithea bellowed in ecstasy and all five vowels as she was penetrated. Her eyes rolled back as blood seeped from her demolished hymen, signalling that her professor had chosen the Crimson Flower route. She shook uncontrollably as all the sugar she had consumed took effect, the vibrations making the Professor Peen feel even better as it pumped in and out of her twat.

Regaining some of her faculties, Lysithea's pink eyes met her professor's, and the utterly bored expression on his face as he pounded her harder than mashed potatoes made her ball her little fists and clamp her teeth in one part indignation, three parts arousal. Despite her efforts, louder and louder moans and gasps escaped her as she was fucked. Lysithea is fifteen years old, and if you have an erection right now, I get to call the police. The staccato sound of Byleth's balls slapping against his student's cervix filled the room, accompanied by Lysithea's cries whenever her teacher accidentally hit her seminal vesicle. Suddenly, the professor leaned down so that their faces were inches apart, violating her personal space.

"How do you like the lesson, Lysithea?" he breathed sensually.

"I love it! I want to learn like this every day!" she growled, her pussy nearing big time rush.

"Would you say you're feeling motivated to do some private tutoring with me?" he groaned in response.

"Goddess, yes! I couldn't be more motivated!"

"OK, great, I'm getting close to unlocking your budding talent in swords," the professor said as he pulled his cock out and walked towards the door, "I'll see you on Monday, bye."

Lysithea just lay there in disbelief that she got blue-balled like that, and now she had postpartum depression. Flopping off the desk, she clutched Obama and crawled to her bed, exhausted by the orgasmless ordeal. She swore that she would fully fornicate tomorrow as well as claim vengeance on Hilda for her earlier mockery. This is another instance of 「Foreshadowing」 that shows my vast intellect. As consciousness left her, Lysithea decided that chewing bubblegum in bed could be a fun experience.

To be continued