Fan-fiction · Free Smut! · Persona


After years in pursuit of her goal, Elizabeth finally sets the world right; a new timeline moves on, oblivious to her struggle.


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Minako opened the door and set down her keys. The air in her apartment was unusually humid. Undoing the hooks of her winter coat, a wave of nostalgia fill her. It seemed as if a familiar crooning was flitting past her ears.

She remembered every word, on day of their parting.

If I stay on this side any longer, I fear I will forget my duties entirely.

At the time, she was seventeen, and though she didn’t think of herself as such then, despite all that had happened, still very much a girl. Years had passed and still she remembered. The gleam of sadness in those ordinarily inscrutable amber eyes. The twist and clench of an illusory fist around her heart. Her hand in the air, frozen, her lips eternally parted, unable to speak a word.

No, it very much did NOT “seem” that she heard that sentimental, wordless aria. There, in her modest studio apartment’s even more modest kitchenette…

That trademark pillbox hat was slightly askew, perched atop her platinum bob. She stood on her toes before the half-stove, peering over the rim of a large pot with insatiable interest, stirring it with a large wooden ladle.

The bold aroma of cumin mingled with her humming in the air.

They scrambled into one another with the slap of
incumbent flesh, tearing clothing like tissue paper, scattering button,
shoe, and rakishly tilted hat wherever they cared to fall. Dull thuds of
stockinged feet across the living room’s tatami. Tumbling over the
small coffee table. A skyburst of Minako’s files flurried the air, a
month’s worth of work transmuted into their impromptu snowstorm.

As one, they impacted the haphazardly piled futon, still left
out from this morning—and, thankfully, Minako had no sense to spare on
being embarrassed about her lack of housekeeping. The walls vibrated
with Elizabeth’s tinkling laughter and Minato’s hungry panting. It was a
queer, yet beautiful, sort of harmony. Minako was atop her, pressing
body to body, lip to lip, fingers to cheek, to neck, to shoulder, to
earlobe with grueling urgency, seeking the surety, the confirmation,
that touch brings.

“Now, now,” chided Elizabeth. A flat press of her palms at
Minako’s shoulders—it didn’t take but a mote of the strength hidden in
this slip of a girl to halt Minako’s slavering advance. “I am ever a
servant,” she explained, before the whimper of need could cross Minako’s
lips. “So please, permit me the pleasure of serving.”

Her momentum redirected with a judoka’s finesse, the impact of
Minako’s shoulders sent a rattle through the wall behind her. Her
stomach lurched with the strange G force of Elizabeth coyly flipping up
her skirt. Her toes curled in her mismatched socks—of all the days to
shirk on fashion! Her throat bobbed with ravenous breath, as Elizabeth’s
slim fingers traced the slim outline of her through her panties. She
nearly screamed with the sensation of cold air, as Elizabeth’s nails
tickled over her bare flesh, tugged down the elastic and let her loose,
placing firm imprint against Minako’s thighs, as her head descended,
gracing a breath of cordial greeting over Minako’s pulsing tip.

“Now what shall I do,” Elizabeth mused, touching a finger to her
lips, a finger Minako would’ve greatly preferred around her lonely

“Elizabeth…” Minako panted her name like a beast mimicking speech.

“That is I.” A touch of her finger latched closed Minako’s lips,
and Minako’s eyes began to water, as she struggled to catch her breathe
through her nose. As she spoke, her head began its arduous descent,
growing closer with every whispered word. “And you are you; and this is
to thank you, for everything you’ve done, and everything you will do.”

Electric jolts of cruel discharge ran up and down Minako’s spine
at the first caress of Elizabeth’s tongue. A wordless sound fluttered
past numb lips, and her hips shook, questing upwards—

—only to be met with a bracing touch Elizabeth’s hand. Her legs locked, rigid. She was reined. Their eyes met.

A mischievous look spread over Elizabeth’s ordinarily serene
features, and she ensorcelled Minako with a raised hand, delicately
tucking the shaken-loose strands of her short, platinum hair back behind
her ear. “But THIS,” she said, plainly, “is for letting me leave, that

Elizabeth plunged, engulfing just the tip of Minako into her
mouth. And then, with the lightest application of suction, conjured a
moan like venom drawn from an age-old wound. Her quarry dazed, Elizabeth
then reclaimed Minako’s focus with a sharp and amiable


to Minako’s seeping, sensitive head.

Minako squealed, a shudder recoiling through her hips with the
tender nibble. Her fingers tightened in the air, grasping for
Elizabeth’s hair, close yet somehow distant. She swallowed, arms
shivering, elbows aching. Her grip closed around Elizabeth’s ears, and
she wrenched downward in counter motion to her hips, the inaccurate blow
smearing clear, pungent fluid over Elizabeth’s soft cheek.

“Marvelous,” Elizabeth whispered, the roll of her breath warm
over slick flesh, coaxing Minako with wet strokes of her hand. “Now show
me what power you hold.”

All through what happened next, a groan with singular urgency
accompanied Elizabeth’s display of not just spectacular knowledge, but
spectacular skill. It was as if she understood every contour, every
crease, every soft spot and every hard one of Minako’s body. Her hand’s
roved Minako’s thighs, under her rear, and up her stomach, tracing along
the curves of her hips, her bellybutton, and at the shallow rise of her
breasts beneath her shirt, only partly undone.

Hips settled into a smooth rhythm, and the muffled sound of
Elizabeth accepting Minako, no small effort, filled the room. Soft hands
moved as if to cajole, squeezing Minako’s stomach, and her head dropped
ever deeper, claiming her, meeting each thrust with heady enthusiasm
and the patient bulge of alternating cheeks. Minako thrashed, having no
use for her body beyond Elizabeth’s use of her, she felt as if a puppet
master had cut her strings, faintly twitching, legs jittering, arms
spasming with uncapped pleasure at her sides. With a


her head cracked the drywall, glassy eyes staring straight
ahead, focusing and unfocusing, until her entire world became nothing
but pellucid coronas of azure and white. A hum grew in Elizabeth’s
throat, vibrations rolling over Minako’s cock in a tremulous wave,
striking a parallel harmony in her strong enough to shatter glass.
Strong enough to— to—


All warning was cut short by the furtive mewl of Minako’s
release. Her stomach tightened. Her knees shot up and her spine arched
forward, fetal. Her fingers tangled in shaggy hair, clinging on for dear
life—keening to the instinctual fear that at the end of this might come
the dissipation of this wonderful dream.

Truly, no warning was required. Elizabeth accepted Minako into
her, fully, gladly embracing her with her mouth, her tongue a bed for
Minako’s surging cock. Her eyes closed, she inhaled supremely through
her nose, in one long, cautious wave, as she accepted Minako’s
release—how many years of tension, waiting for this moment?

It was a… rather


welcome home she received indeed.

With the deep sound of Elizabeth’s swallow, the thunderhead of
tension looming in the air burst into blessed rain. Minako grabbed at
fistfuls of hair and neck, pulling Elizabeth to her and swiftly snaring
her with a potent kiss. They fell together onto the tangled quilts,
wrestling against one another, kicking their legs in the air, and
sharing kisses and sharp giggles of joy as the truth of their reunion
hit them with its full and proper force.

When they’d worn each other out, they parted, staring up at the
ceiling and listening to the drone of traffic outside, connected to each
other by a singular, stray bead of sweat pinned between the near-touch
of their arms. Their fingertips traded touches at their sides, and they
exhaled their passion on the same whim, with a long and wistful sigh.

“Now then,” Elizabeth said plainly, trailing her Minako-warm
hands across her cold neck, bringing them to her face and enjoying the
smell of their shared pleasure. She rested her cheek atop the quilts,
tenting her fingers beneath amber eyes glimmering with tears yet to be
shed, and said, “I really must insist you try the curry.”

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