Contest is over, post your porn. Here's one of my two obligations.
Plus something else.


The following story contains sexual content, you have been forewarned. Fate/Grand Order, and its related concepts and ideas are the intellectual properties of Kinoko Nasu, Type-MOON, Notes Ltd., Aniplex, DelightWorks, and other respective rights holders. This story is written solely for the purpose of entertainment, and not for any sort of monetary profit. If anything, consider this free advertising.

Cerulean Ride

The curious singularity had been converted from a tropical prison to a pleasant paradise of island escapades. Trapped here on this uncharted island located somewhere deep in the fabled Land of Shadows at first, the solo Master of Chaldea and his Servants made the most of their time there, and turned the place from a harsh wilderness into a lovely timeshare. From building bungalows and giant statues that honor the most audaciously outspoken of the island-flippers, to even travelling to the very future of the lost land and restoring civilization to that island, even for those who sought to save the world from its fated destruction at the hands of the king of magic this has undeniably been a summer to remember.

Now, all the work is done. Both islands, present and future, are respectively developed and restored enough to be fantastic holiday getaways in their own right.

Now, one day left remains of summer.

No one can say for sure why exactly they know in their hearts that this day will be their last on either island. Not that pair of famed pirates, forever inseparable by the bond they formed in the gunsmoke on the high seas. Not the iron-fisted saint, whose divine grace was enough to tame even a dragon. Not the queen who was so admired as an idol by her countrymen. Not the two ladies of the Eastern courts, who were as lovely as much as they beloved their Master, in their own peculiar madness; nor the two knightly royal women of the British Isles, who had traded in their holy swords for more seasonal toys appropriate for that busy summertime.

…Perhaps the witch, doomed to never pass the gates of the underworld yet who met her end as all of human civilization met its in the billowing flames that used human history itself as kindling. If anyone can prophesy when exactly this not-unwelcome but utterly impromptu summer vacation shall end, using the most profound of arcane arts, she’s the most likely candidate.

Perhaps that explains her high strung, go-getter attitude during this whole adventure!

No matter. No matter who knows, or does not know, or how any of them do, it still feels like that day will be their last day, that the coming next morning that the fine men and women of Chaldea will get their act together, triangulate the positions of the lost Master and his veritable army of Servants, and leyshift the vanguard force of humanity’s only hope back into the familiar, colder halls of their home base.

TL;DR everyone is doing whatever the heck they want, making last minute summer memories. I am no exception. Feeling bushwhacked, I feel the siren’s call of the swaying hammock, the pearl nestled within the oyster that was the verdant island’s bungalow. For me, a very well deserved catnap is what my immediate future holds, and I don’t need divination magic of any type to sort that out.

I scratch my head and yawn into my palm as I enter the cozy little beach house.

I can’t ignore the letter left on my hammock so.


Hey! You! This is an invitation!
You’d better come down to the beach later. Don’t be late! Or else, I’ll–
I mean, I’ll be waiting! It’s gonna be radical!


How can I be late? There isn’t a time here.

I do not recognize the hand-writing. To be fair, I’ve not THAT familiar with the handwriting of all of my Servants. There were a few striking examples I couldn’t possibly forget, even if I wanted to. Thank you, Kiyohime, that love letter that you wrote in the sand will haunt him my nightmares.

That said, the sender of this letter is painfully obvious. Let’s go say hi to her.

The change of heart leads to a change of plans, and with message in tow I leave my seaside pad as nearly as soon as I enter it.

The grit on the stone path crunches beneath my sandals as I make my way to the vegetation line, where the island’s flora stops growing and gives way to the wide, sandy shore that serves as boundary to the sapphire sea beyond. I look left. I look right. I look at the paper again, just to check, and my lonesomeness makes me compulsively breathe out a sigh of gentle exasperation.

Are you hiding, Mordred?

“Who the hell says I’m hiding?! I’m hunting boars to kill time!” she calls from the brush.

Don’t let the tyranny get to your head just because I let you build a wrought-iron tower of doom and one of those aforementioned giant statues of yourself, respectively, on the west and east bluffs. Just because I felt sorry for you because your father chewed you out because you tried to set us up in a metal deathtrap of a would-be beach bungalow. Rightfully so, we would have been roasted in the day and been chilled to the bone come nightfall.

“I’m not terrorizing those cute, little boars! I’m just on patrol for those big nasty brohimes!” So she says, but are there any of those boar monsters still left on this island in the first place? “Just doing it while I wait for, um, you know…

With a lively hop and a skip she bounces out of the vegetation and alights upon the sandy ground, before me, Prydwen in tow. She stammers with a mite nervous grin “A-Anyway! Glad you came!” Same. I like to throw you a bone every now and now. “How did you know it was me?”

I show her the note. Who else could ‘M’ be?

“It could have been Marie! Or Mary. Or Martha. Or Tamamo – ‘Mamo!’”

The handwriting was total slapdash. Definitely Mordred handiwork.

“Ouch! Way to harsh my mellows, dude!”

Now Mordred’s talking like a surfer. Still, we’re walking on the beach together. With that bright red bikini, her sunkissed skin, and the way she balances that (artefact she’s repurposed into a) surfboard under her arm and on her hip as if it came naturally, it’s a good fit for her. It’s a good vibe, and like those white-capped waves just offshore of us it’s one definitely worth rolling with.

“Roll with it, huh?” she says as we continue to walk, erring on a pensive side that echoes of Mordred’s typical moodier self.

“Roll with it, huh?” Mordred repeats again as she comes across some empty sunbeds in the shade of some tall, swaying palm trees, plants that have drifted to the island years ago and washed onshore their new home back when they were mere coconuts. She jabs Prydwen into the sand, sits down on the beachside furniture, and pats the white-sheeted mattress beneath her. “Come on, Master! Sit with me!” Mordred catches something out of the corner of her eye and starts at the sight of the other sunbeds. In a flash of tan, crimson, and black and violet highlights she runs over to the other sunbeds, kicks them away, making them crash into the thick brush or splashdown into the water, too distant from the shore to retrieve and then bolts back as a whiplash onto the sole sunbed. “Ah man, that’s weak! It’s the only place you can sit. Bummer! Looks like we’ll have to share!” Mordred again pats the spot next to her, a little more energetically this time.

That’s…technically correct.

I play the good sport. I sit next to her. All in all, it’s a fine spot. I mean, there’s nice shade, the view of the beach and ocean from here is good, and, well, you’re not bad company either, Mordred.

“You know what would be tubular?”


“Going for one last surf!”

The waves are pretty light right now. Would that even be fun?

“I-I mean w-we could go out together!” Quickly, she further appends her request with a flustered “For a ride! On the waves!! I mean the waves!!”

I’ve never gone surfing before. I wouldn’t want to hold Mordred back or anything, just in case we get some fat swells later on. But, it’s the last day. Probably. We all might as well get spontaneous while we can.

“Spontaneous, ya say.” Pensive Mordred is back, and distant and choppy as the waves on the horizon, imperceptible from shore except to those who look. “Hey. Master. Know what I, ehhh, ain’t gone and done on the island yet, or, erm, well, ever?”

I’m all ears.

“I, um, I uh, huhhh…”

Go on.

As if she’s straining every muscle in her body, shaking under the crushing weight of reality’s brutality, with a poignantly pained determination Mordred forces out every single word like she’s torturing herself, pulling out her own guts through the act of speaking this crucial phrase. “I’ve—never had a summer romance before…”

How funny… Neither have I…

“AUGHH! CRAP! Nonono, I mean, I like you, too! Really, really, like you! AHA! Hahaha! I said it! I finally got to say it! After a summer of waiting I finally got to say it! WAHOO!!” Mordred, relieved of her tension, pumps her fists in the air over and over, like she’s trying to punch it into a bloody pulp, and lets out a war cry of primal triumph that echoes down the beach.

I can’t help myself. I clap a little bit.

“Damn, son, I feel so relieved. Hahah.

“So. Uh. Would you? And—me?”

The summer must be getting to me, too.

I stand up with her, take her hand.

Say no more.

With a sturdy tug that takes her off-balance, I pull Mordred down into my lap. The surfer-knight girl lets out a surprised squeak that I quickly muffle with a press of my lips to hers. Confusion flits about Mordred’s eyes. “Master?” her words breathlessly escape her mouth in between kisses and feel warm on my cheeks even compared to this summertime weather. “Isn’t this going fast?”

It IS the last day of summer.

Her voice – nervous but wanting. “There’s h-hella stuff to catch up on—” Mordred agrees.

And no time to do it. The way I see it we’ve done enough to get into the third date. “A-Already?! So soon?” she again asks, unbearably shy yet wanting something, anything, all the same. Well, summer romances DO by fast ANYWAY – probably so that babies conceived during those passionate dog days can be birthed in time for the bounties of spring.

“B-B-B-B-BABIES??!?? I-It’s way, way, way, way, way too soon to talk about that—!!! We’re still only on the the-third daaayte!!” Mordred’s voice breaks an octave on that climactic, crucial word as I neck her slender throat.

You’re right. It’s way too soon. Also, you’re wrong. Now we’re on the fifth or so date. Probably. Who cares? I just want you now.

I feel her pulse racing like a rabbit’s. A gentle nibble, teeth lightly scrapes the soft skin of the most vulnerable part of her body. Mordred mewls out as I do that, holding onto my shoulders for dear life. I feel like a predator, and she the prey, small and cowering and in my grasp. But, though I could devour her here and now, there is trust. There is trust between us as I mouth at my crooning erstwhile Saber, my Rider-for-the-Summer. I want to tear into her like she shreds on those waves, and I want her to feel how good I imagine it will feel to share such summer memories with someone special.

I roll the zipper of her surf jacket down, fully exposing her striking, crimson bikini top, her nipples hard and full and noticeably poking against the material, betraying her lust. “Ahh! Don’t take it off!” As I pull at the jacket Mordred desperately begs me. I start in my tracks, worried, my head suddenly clear. Have I gone too far? “Don’t take it off. N-Not all the way. Y-You gave me this jacket, so I—I want to keep it on during this.”

I pet Mordred’s head and tell her how adorable she is. I can’t help myself and again kiss her, Mordred again groaning into my mouth as I then go from patting her head to massaging one of her perfectly palm-sized breasts over a red cup of her swimsuit. My fingers quickly yearn for more, and I reach under the fabric and feel the stiffness of her tips for myself. That really makes Mordred squeal, and the trichotomy of the softness of her breasts, the firmness of her tips, and the slick sweat on her skin makes me massage her in earnest, pushing her off my lap and seating her next to me.

“Ahh… Ahhhh…” Mordred breathes hard as she lets me take the lead, feeling around on her. Then, something catches my eye. Something about the way her legs squirm as she wiggles in place, something about the way her golden thighs rubbing together lights a proper fire in me.

—Mordred. I stand up from the sunbed and call her name.

“Y-YEAUH?!?” Mordred replies in an outdoor voice, as if she’s been snapped out a hypnotic daze yet is still in a waking dream of hazelust.

Please spread your legs for a second. I want to check you for something.

“R-Right on…” As if she’s already gotten weak in the knees, Mordred puts her hands on her thighs and pries them apart, for my viewing pleasure. My knees are perfectly fine, and I get to mine, and—like some kind of rascal—put myself at eye level with the second most vulnerable part of her body.

Yep. Her swimsuit’s working as intended: being worn while wet.

Alright. That’s enough dates. We don’t even need to get to third base to make this work.

“Dude?! Wh-What???”

I feel like right about now is when we’d do IT.

“Oh. OH! Oh. Yeah, that. P-Pretty b-bogus if we stopped now.”

If you actually AREN’T ready, then—

“No! I mean, yeah! I mean, j-just fuck me, already, Master!!”

My shorts drop and hit the sand, revealing my excitement for her to see. Once again, Mordred looks surprised, but she quickly steels herself, spreads her legs wider, and pushes her swimsuit to the side, acting boldly even as a hot blush red enough to rival her swimsuit burns across her cheeks and ears. “C’mon… M-M-Make me feel it, Master. Make me f-feel what a summer romance is like.”

With hand around myself I angle into Mordred, and with the other I touch her shoulder. I kiss her as I make my entrance, and Mordred clenches my forearm as I do so. Her mouth gasps into mine, but she accommodates just fine and I slip in nicely. You really are soaked, Mordred.

“What’s the problem with that?”

Nothing. I push her down, Mordred lets me push her down, and she’s on her side as I roll into her. I move in closer, push her leg up, and her sandaled foot rests on my shoulder. Mordred clings to me tighter than a damp wetsuit as her body is rocked back and forth with mine, atop the mattress, every inch of her body stroking every inch of mine.

“More-! More, but deeper-!” Mordred tells me what she wants, loudly. I comply. Mordred gets rolled onto her belly and has her hips lifted up to mine. Her taut butt bounces briefly every time I take her from behind, every reverse thrust coming out wetter than before. Mordred buries her face into the mattress, unleashing muffled screams of embarrassment and pleasure. She shivers from delight, and in an act of no-fucks-given (even as I’m giving her as many fucks as I can) Mordred turns her head to the side and lets out a good, proper wail, making all the others from before seem like just practice. “N-NO! No more holding back, Me!! I want this! I want this! I want you!! Master! Make me feel good-!”

Mordred cutting loose has me cutting loose, too. This is so hot, in all meanings of the phrase. The island heat. The cute, sexy girl I’m with. The sweat beads on my forehead and I start to pant and the next thing I know why thoughts are as white as the sand. As the gnarliest of feels awashes my body my whitewater breaks through my tube crashes on the shore of Mordred’s secret cove. Still firmly lodged inside of Mordred, I lean over and on top of her, pressing my weight against the spunky Servant. Was it good for you too, Mordred?

“P-Pretty rad,” she says. “But I’m still excited. You’re on top of me and I just want more. Once isn’t enough once I’ve gotten a taste of summer romance, I guess…”

Want me to ride you again?

“…better idea. How about a ride instead?” Mordred asks. “With me?”

Alright, then—

“Not here! There.” Mordred points to the calm littoral waters.


“On Prydwen.” She emphasizes with nearly tangible excitement.

That’s adventurous.

“That’s SUMMER,” Mordred replies with a cheeky grin. “Alright! Come on, Master!” She pushes me off, as easily as she was always able to, reaffirming the proper dynamic of the Master/Servant relationship in terms of the physical aspect of the power dynamic. A white rope of lust connects me with her before it silently snaps in the middle, becoming just another stain on the mattress, the remnants clinging to my length and her bottom. But before my body can wax nostalgia and ache over not being in Mordred’s burning hot, tight, wet body she takes me in her hand and slowly strokes me even as she begins to walk to the shore with Prydwen under her arm. “THIS is MINE.” Mordred tells me as she does the job and we walk together. “It’s mine, for the summer.”

This must be the part of the whole summer romance thing where we get more bold and exploratory with each other. Seems as if the student has bested the teacher. We approach the light waves, and the situation makes Mordred give out a giddy giggle.

The water reaches our toes, covers our feet. Soon it’s up to our calves, and thighs. It’s warm enough that I don’t go limp, though the credit also goes to Mordred’s strokes keeping it at attention, vigilant for a round two out on the water. Once we’re far out enough Mordred mischievously splashes Prydwen into the water, getting my face wet, and she lets go of me to mount it. She scooches forward, allowing me to sit on the very back, right behind her. The waves make us bob up and down on the surfboard, and the island seems smaller and distant from here. Mordred turns her head, looks to me, and I know. I kiss her again, push her swimsuit top up with my hands, expose her breasts. I push her down onto the board, on her back, and push my hips against her in a needful manner, our lips locked and our arms wrapped around each other.

“Hold up. Hold up!” Mordred urges me. “Before it gets too crazy in here, first—Prydwen: Engage, Roll Out.” Azure circuits flash over the surface of the board for a second, and then it rotates forty-five degrees portside and begins to glide gently across the water. “My buddy’s on autopilot now. Won’t have to worry about getting frisky now.”

That’s great. You’re great, Mordred. Her grin says pride. Her eyes say “fuck me already.” In that case, how about something ELSE for adventure’s sake?

Mordred’s expression is full of enthused curiosity. “Whatcha got planned?”

I push her legs up, angling her hips to the sky, and pull her red bikini bottom down and up to hang from the middle of her thighs. I spit on my index finger and rub the loogie all over it to coating by using my thumbpad, and then stick it into her tight butthole. Let’s do this and see where this ride take us.

“H-Hey! Th-That’s my butt!”

It can also feel pretty good, here. We won’t know until we try. For the sake of the spirit of adventure. For the sake of summer thrills and spills.

“O-Okay. Fine! I-I’d never know otherwise. G-Go!” Mordred sounds like she’s pushing herself, but she also doesn’t want to give up. She wants to burn the candle on both ends and live to the fullest, at least until this summer is over.

So, the finger goes in and out her pooper. It clings to me even tighter than before. She clings to my forearm as Prydwen bobs us up and down and it makes to complete a circuit of the whole island. “A-Ahh—” lets a moan slip as I curl my finger inside her gut. I do it again. “Ahh!” Nice response. I could barely hear that one over the splashing water all around us. As such, I do her like that again, teasing her from inside her gut. “Ehh!! M-Masterr!!”

Time passes. A minute, or so of me having my way with Mordred underneath me. I pull my finger out. “Oh,” she goes. You sound lonely, Mordred. “Do I?” Yes. Have another friend. My middle finger joins with my index finger and spreads her butthole more, and the options to further tease her present themselves. One-two. One-two. Two-one. My pair of fingers roll around within her as my legs are gently dragged by the water and the wake of the board, and all the while Mordred makes noise. Nearly as much as when we had our first time on the sunbed together. What if someone on shore hears you like this, Mordred?

“D-Don’t say that, Master! I’d d-die of embarrassment!”

Don’t you worry your blonde little head over it. If I see anyone, I’ll help us keep quiet.

—Here’s a secret. My eyesight isn’t THAT good.

Two fingers become three, and three becomes four. Eventually, Mordred’s dark seacave holds its open shape, and my perennially hard rod plumbs those depths for buried treasure.

“Maaassster, that’s more than a f-few f-fingers, f-fuck!” Mordred groans out, her voice rolling on a sine, just like the gentle waves beneath the board we’re on. “I, I might go insane…” Here’s something to keep all of our fingers occupied. I lean into her, pushing her hips up into mine, letting me take her butt deeper, and interweave my fingers with hers, all of mine, with hers. Mordred’s mouth opens, and her tongue rolls out, desperate for me. Mine meets with hers, and her neck cranes to reciprocate with a deep, deep kiss. “Nn, nnn, nnnn…!” As I press into her she groans into me, as if every thrust of me in her treasurebox is converted by her slim, lewd, willing body into pleasure. Harder? “G-Good enough! J-Just like that!!” she assures me, and I remain at pace for minutes. Until I can no longer bear it.

My pace increases, wanting to bust this status quo and bust a nut. I move harder, faster, better, stronger, pushing Mordred, but she doesn’t complain. She relishes in it. “Master! Master!! MASTERRR!!!” She lets out a proper shriek as I do it, and I nearly fear-nut then and there as I reflexively look over my shoulder quick enough to give myself whiplash because I was convinced I saw flames of jealousy burn from within the island jungle. It was only paranoia, serving nothing but tricking myself and making the encounter with Mordred all the steamier.

Prydwen responds to her lust. It moves faster the harder we go. It quickly spirits us to the shore. “Master!! Masterrrr!! It’s bitchin’! More! Give me more!” As the board pulls over to the shallows I pull out of Mordred’s ass. Up, Mordred! Sit up, sit up and open up! She does so, and I stroke as hard and as fast as I can. My seed splashes on her face, coats her lips and tongue, falls onto her breasts and swimsuit. “M-Master…” Mordred goes, breathing a sigh of relief and her face aglow. “W-Way to butter my gnar…”

I guess that’s a good thing.

I take her by her hand and help her off Prydwen. She pushes it onto the shore, and washes her face with saltwater straight from the crashing waves. So? Was it good for you now, Mordred?

“Uh, y-yeah! Definitely…” Mordred replies, looking a little embarrassed but nevertheless quite happy.

Thanks for the ride.

“F-Fuck you??? I mean, y-yeah, it was fun. All of it. Definitely.” She shrugs, still smiling a dopey smile. “S-Sorry, still new to this, this THING.”

A summer romance?

“Exactly!” Mordred walks some up the path, to the seaside cottage. “H-Hey?” she asks.

Hey, what?

“Does a… does a summer romance gotta end… when summer ends?”

Well, if it doesn’t, it’s not a summer romance.

“Huhhh. I guess…”

Summer is more than a season. It’s a state of mind, and Mordred certainly radiates it like a sun. With her, it might as well never stop.

Worse things have happened.