#I’m first his simp and second human

[explicit-tae]

Ungodly Hour (2)

You’re encouraged by Chaeyoung, your roommate, to use Jungkook thirst for you to your advantage.

Word Count: 2.314

Warning: smut, dirty talking, thirsty jk as always, also simp jk, facesitting, oral (m receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, semi-rough sex, jimin and mc are friendemies,

“Bitch.” Jimin murmurs beneath his breath as he passes you and all you can do is roll your eyes.

“So sassy.” you quip, a smirk forming onto your lips.

“Don’t listen to him.” Jungkook pipes in, holding two cases of water bottles in his arms. You furrow a brow, eyes admiring (in secret) how the veins on his arms pulse. “He’s just mad he had to help bring the groceries in.”

Jimin drops a few bags against your kitchen table and rolls his eyes. “I was promised breakfast. Instead I’m walking up three flights of stairs to put food in your kitchen.”

Jungkook scoffs, placing your water gently by the other two packs already on the ground inside the kitchen. Chaeyoung is excited, already putting away the groceries Jungkook - generously - provided. The cabinets were already full enough and she hadn’t even made it to the fridge or freezer. She could kiss Jungkook for the month supply of food - but you were already repaying him.

“Sucks to suck.” you shrug your shoulders when Jimin passed you again with even more bags. 

“You would know a lot about sucking.” Jimin retorts. 

“You want to fuck me so bad, Jimin.” you laugh and the comment catches Jimin completely off guard. He flushes, but you don’t want to tease the man any more.“You’re just upset, Jungkook  kicked you off of his account.” you cross your arms, and this struck a nerve in Jimin.

It was a month ago when Jimin had texted you - getting your number from Chaeyoung - just to tell you that you were everything but a civilized human being. Why? Because you had complained to Jungkook that whenever you were watching something, Jimin also was. And that meant - to satiate you - Jungkook had removed Jimin’s devices from his account and changed the passwords.

“I was binge watching The Real Housewives!” Jimin snaps. “But I suppose pussy is worth our friendship.” the man crosses his arms, eyes glancing at Jungkook. 

“You’ll get your breakfast.” Jungkook rolls his eyes. He rummages through his sweats and grabs his wallet. He hands Jimin a black card. 

“It’s the least you could do.” Jimin glances your way and rolls his own eyes. He leaves without a second word and all you could do is giggle.

“Do you have anything planned today? Classes?”

You shake your head. You were completely free today and have done so to repay Jungkook for his generous donation.

Jungkook nods. His eyes glance to Chaeyoung who is still happily organizing the insane amount of groceries. She’s humming to herself with a grin on her lips. 

“When is she leaving?” Jungkook murmurs, a red tint on his cheeks. He doesn’t want to come across as desperate - but that’s exactly what he was. He had replied far too fast to your tweet (and of course he would, he had your notifications on, afterall) and raced to the Supermarket first thing in the morning. 

You stroll towards Jungkook. You wrap your arms around his waist and knit your brows. “I can’t kick Chae out. She lives here, too.”

Jungkook nods, defeated. “We can watch a movie-”

“No.” Chaeyoung calls from the kitchen opening. “I’ll put my airpods in and put the rest of the groceries away. Don’t let me stop you from fucking his brains out.”

Jungkook’s eyes widen, flushing even a deeper shade of red. Chaeyoung speaks as if Jungkook isn’t there, her eyes solely on you. “Make sure you go multiple rounds. He bought everything name-brand!”

Jungkook tilts his head. 

“Let’s go!” you sing-song, grasping his hand to race towards your room. You open the door and close it behind you and Jungkook. 

“You guys must’ve been starving.” Jungkook jokes, his hands immediately on you. 

“A little.” you murmur, capturing your lips with his own. Kissing could be considered intimate, but at this stage, you were fucking Jungkook for about anything and for nothing. Sometimes you two weren’t even doing that - you watched movies together, studied whenever needed and just enjoyed each other's company. 

“Why didn’t you ask sooner?” Jungkook presses open mouth kisses upon the skin of your neck. He’s already dipping his hands beneath your pajama shorts to feel your ass.

“Just got on birth control.” you respond when he pulls your shorts off of you completely. You fall onto your bed. “Decided to use it to my advantage.”

Jungkook groans, hovering above you. That means that this didn’t have to be a one time thing - he could cum in you as much as you’d let him. “You don’t need to do anything for me, you know?” Jungkook lifts your shirt from your head, discarding it to the side. Your breasts fall freely and he’s already pressing kisses upon them. He does the same to his shirt soon after. “I don’t mind buying you things.”

You wrap your legs around his waist to bring him closer. You never want to admit that his words get to you. Fuck Jeon Jungkook and his good heart (and dick) for making you feel things you weren’t suppose to feel outside of sex .

“You must waste so much money on all these girls.” you attempt to sound unbothered by his words. His tongue is already swirling your nipple with his thumb pinching the other. “Fucking s-simp.” he’s grinding against your heat, the friction perfect.

“You know you’re the only one that has access to me.” Jungkook pops your nipple from his mouth. He proceeds to lick, eyes flickering to you. You press yourself tighter against his clothed cock, grinding against it. 

“I don’t.” You do - but it does something to you to hear him say it. Maybe it was an ego thing - a pride. It makes your head big just knowing that Jungkook would do anything you asked and expected next to nothing in return.

“You do, Y/N. You know you’re my girl.” Even if the agreement was to keep things completely sexual, to everyone but the two of you, this was a relationship. You hung out outside of sex far too often for this to be a regular friend with benefit type of situation - but it was like the blind leading the blind. “You wanna sit on my face?”

You nod your head hastily. In seconds, Jungkook was beneath you, tugging your underwear off so you could sit on him like he asked. The first time he requested it, you felt indifferent. You never sat directly on anyone before and you were afraid to suffocate him. However, Jungkook insisted and since then, sitting on his face has been your (and his) favorite position to try.

Jungkook isn’t the one to waste time. He’s suckling onto your clit with ease, hands gripping your thighs in place. He loves it more when you grind against his tongue - he enjoys watching you tremble with pleasure. He has the perfect view of not only your leaking pussy, but your breast and your beautiful face. It was the perfect position for him.

You were a truthful person - you’d give Jungkook his flowers. The man is insanely attractive and whenever you sat on his face, you could never last too long. Jungkook always insisted on watching you - he stated he loved the way you always crumbled for him. How you’d moan while grinding against his tongue.

It’s what Jungkook’s doing now. He locks his eyes with yours. He clenches your thighs as an unspoken response. 

“S-Stop looking at me.” you whine. You lift your hips, but Jungkook doesn’t allow it. He pulls you back down against his tongue.

“You’re always so stubborn.” Jungkook muffles between your legs. He’s flicking his tongue between your folds. “I know you’re about to cum, baby. Stop being so embarrassed.”

You mentally groan because of course there it was. That word. Jungkook knew how to fluster you - if he meant to do it or not. 

“Fine.” you grumble.

Jungkook slaps your thigh. “Now ride my face.” he says. He closes his eyes to not further fluster you, even if he did want to watch you cum right in front of him. 

You do as you’re told, grinding your hips against his tongue. Jungkook holds you in place, silently encouraging you to continue. You can feel the familiar bubble deep in your stomach and your hips pick up the pace. You release a deep moan, eyes fluttering close.

Jungkook takes a peek at you, feeling his cock twitch. So beautiful you were. He could watch you like this for as long as you’d let him.

Jungkook knows you’re going to cum once your moans become high pitched and your hips jerk. He doesn’t take his eyes off of your face as you come undone, his cock basically begging for a release.

You feel tired when you move yourself from Jungkook’s lips. You fall against your bed with a sigh.

Licking his lips, Jungkook hovers above you. “Tired?”

You nod your head. “A little.” you always were after cumming on his tongue. It was inevitable. 

Jungkook nods. “You hungry? I can…make us something?”

You groan once more. There he was again being nice and doing things to your heart that he wasn’t supposed to do.

“You can after you cum inside of me.”

It’s hard to ignore the bulge in Jungkook’s sweats.

“You sure. It’s okay-”

You slap Jungkook’s chest, interrupting his speech. “Shut the fuck up, Jungkook.” you hiss. “You’re too nice.”

Jungkook snickers. “You want me to be an insensitive asshole?” Yes you did. It made things easier. You told yourself (and Chaeyoung) that you wouldn’t fall for this nice boy act and become far too gone. He made it hard. Offering to make you cum was different than cooking for you.

“You do.” Jungkook hums. “Is that some type of kink?”

“Fuck you.” you hiss. “Maybe I just want you to be a little rough sometimes.”

Jungkook smirks, understanding your tone. You were closing yourself off because you were flustered - and the only way for you to calm yourself was to insult him.

“If that’s what you wanted, it’s all you had to say, baby.” Jungkook pushes his sweats down and kicks it off. His bulge is entirely too huge inside his underwear. “I’d do whatever you ask me to do.”

Shit. There he was again. Jungkook knew what he was doing.

“Turn around.” Jungkook slaps your thigh. “Since you want to be treated like a whore, I'll do just that.”

You may have turned entirely too quickly, but you couldn’t help it. 

Jungkook positions himself at your entrance. “Let me know if I’m too rough, okay?”

“Stop being a pussy.”

Jungkook only chuckles. 

Jungkook then enters you, you’re so wet that you take him far too easily. He begins his pace brutally, pushing your face down into your pillows. He keeps one hand tangled into your hair while the other grips your hips.

This was new. No, Jungkook wasn’t technically vanilla. He could be rough when needed - but this? This was a new side of Jungkook that has you clenching around him. With each thrust, he hits a nerve, sending you more and more over the edge. 

“No back talk?” Jungkook huffs, cracking his hips to fuck into you deeper. 

You want to tell Jungkook to go fuck himself, but then he pulls your hair back in a way that has you whimpering for more. 

“You always insist on being a bitch.” Jungkook releases your hair to wrap his arms around you. You feel his lips upon your neck, his hips never halting their abusive thrusts.

“But even if you are a bitch, you know I love it.”

“S-Shut up.” you whimper.

Jungkook doesn’t. Instead, he flips you onto your back so he can watch you while he fucks you. 

“No.” Jungkook spits, continuing the same brutal pace. He has your knees touching your shoulders, the new position allowing him to fuck you even deeper than before. “You don’t like it when I'm nice to you. You want me to treat you like some whore.”

Your eyes are rolling now. There’s no way Jungkook could be fucking you entirely this good that you’re unable to form words.

“But you aren’t some whore to me, Y/N. You know you’re still my girl.” Jungkook places a kiss upon your cheek. “So I’ll treat you like a bitch in heat now, then I’ll cook for us, yeah?”

Jungkook doesn’t wait for your response. He leans back and places his thumb upon your clit. He begins to rub, determined to make you cum again.

You’re stuttering, jerking away from Jungkook, the overstimulation completely unbearable. 

“Stop running, isn’t this what you wanted?”

So pretty, Jungkook thinks. You could be a bitch sometimes, but it’s what he likes about you. He enjoys the playful bickering he entertains and your feisty attitude. He enjoys it even more when he does entertain you in these little games you play just for you to lose at your own game - much like how you were now.

Jungkook’s thrusts are sloppy once you cum, a twitching mess beneath him. Your eyes are rolling and you’re no longer trying to hide your moans.

Jungkook presses his lips against yours, grunting into it while he gives one last thrust. His cum shoots inside of you, coating your warm walls.

It takes a few minutes for Jungkook to lay beside you. He feels just as tired as you must’ve felt earlier, panting low to himself.

“You still hungry?”

Your eyelids are fluttering closed, suddenly heavy. “Sleepy.” you murmur, laying your head against Jungkook's chest. 

Jungkook wraps an arm around you. “You’re also so cuddly after a good fucking.” he teases. 

“Fuck you.”

“I will after our nap.” Jungkook laughs. “We have all day for me to turn you into my little twinkie-”

Your body heats up and you slap Jungkook’s chest, but once again, all he does is laugh.

Series Masterlist

[maya1525]

SUCK ~ & ~ F*CK 😋🍾

✩ Featuring Yuji Itadori / Ryomen Sukuna ✩

18+MDNI

Pairing✩࿐Fem!Reader X Yuji Itadori / Ryomen Sukuna

WARNINGS✩࿐Fem!Reader giving oral, unprotected vaginal sex, cream pie, sex in front of others, language, rough sex

Word count✩࿐4k

Summary✩࿐This is based on my original post: SUCK ~ GUESS ~ F*CK. But you know ahead of time whose dick is in your slutty mouth. Itadori drew 4 of Hearts♥️

A/N✩࿐I like this combination; Itadori as a sweet-simp-gentleman 🥹compared to Sukuna as a possessive and sex hungry monster. I felt like it’d be hot having Sukuna show you off on his dick, clearly demonstrating his prowess. 😈😮‍💨 When Sukuna speaks in Itadori’s mind his words are in red. Feedback is highly appreciated, I love reading your comments! 😙💖

“The game is quite simple.” Gojo stated in a matter-of-fact tone, “You’re going to be blindfolded and will have to guess which man's dick is in your mouth. If you guess incorrectly, the man gets to choose which position to fuck you in. If you guess correctly, then you get to choose the position. To keep things interesting, you’ll suck dick for three minutes and get fucked for seven.”

You nodded your understanding as you sat on the large and cushy futon in Gojo’s apartment. He had planned on fucking you alone tonight, but your boyfriends wanted in on the action, plus they thought it would be a good idea to invite two of their friends, Mechamaru and Noritoshi.

You felt your cheeks warm up with excitement, never in your life, you’ve felt so deeply desired before. Everyone’s eyes were on you, especially because you wore a revealing teddy one-piece. Satoru bought it for you, and it complimented your figure perfectly. He even put a stunning custom collar on you, with a diamond-covered ‘S’ on it.

You couldn’t help but feel a little embarrassed to be this exposed in front of Noritoshi and Mechamaru. You were familiar with both of these men, but you were still getting used to human Mechamaru. Muta was on the leaner side compared to your boyfriends, he had sharp features and a large and noticeable scar on his upper cheek. While Kamo on the other hand always seemed like a strong and serious leader among his comrades. The thought that he yearned for you just as much as your boyfriends made you wonder what he would be like when he fucked you. The thought made you anticipate his turn.

While you thought about those two men, your eyes were subconsciously drawn to both of them. Noritoshi sat on the far side of the sectional, his heated gaze stared you down hungrily. Beside him sat your boyfriend Megumi with a starved look in his midnight blue eyes. Next sat Itadori, he eyed you with such desperation, that it looked as if he was going to jump off the couch any second to get to you. Next to him sat Satoru smugly, his eyes gleamed playfully in your direction. Beside him was Muta, he eyed shyly with a faint blush on his face. To his left sat Yuuta and Inumaki, Toge was leaning into the couch comfortably, his violet-colored eyes sparkling over your stunning body with admiration and Yuuta had a similar look of awe on his face.

“Ok Y/n, I’m going to put this on you if you’re ready,” Satoru murmured, his gorgeous blue eyes gleaming down at you, while he wrapped his black blindfold around your eyes.

You were shocked at how you couldn’t even see small streams of light through it. You had always assumed that it was sheer fabric and that Gojo could slightly see through it, but you were mistaken. Satoru’s amazing Six Eyes technique is one to behold, he certainly is the strongest jujitsu sorcerer.

“OK, now that her eyes are covered, I’m going to hand each of you a playing card. Whoever draws the highest card gets to go first.” Satoru explained nonchalantly, as the sound of him shuffling the cards expertly made itself known in your ears.

After a short moment of listening to each man shift on the couch to get their card, Gojo spoke. “Now let’s reveal our cards.” You heard a few small sighs of excitement from some of the men, and you also heard some hisses of displeasure, assuming that they would have to wait a while until their turn.

You heard someone come near your face and hastily brought the tip of his dick to your soft lips. You gave his cock a loving kiss and welcomed him in your mouth sweetly. You slurped him hungrily and made sure to swivel your tongue all over his rod. You were able to taste his precum leaking from his tip. So you lapped it up like a hungry kitten. Your ears picked up on a faint groan of delight from the man above you. You couldn’t tell if it was Yuuta or Itadori though. You beckoned him down your throat expertly, earning another sigh of satisfaction.

You held him lodged in your throat briefly, and then you pulled him out and sucked him sweetly. With your free hand, you simultaneously jerked him off in your mouth as you slurped on his rod. Then you burrowed him down your throat again.

This man carefully cupped your face in his hands while you deep-throated him. You removed yourself from his horny dick and traced your tongue all over him seductively. You licked him like a lollipop, making sure to coat him up in your saliva. You even made sure to give his balls a good licking. His slick dick arched yearningly against your cheek while you worked your tongue on his nuts.

Itadori was rendered speechless at the sight before him. You sucked, licked, and kissed him so perfectly. He wanted to pull you off his dick and immediately return the favor.

Let me face fuck her!

Sukuna’s irrational voice belted in Itadori’s head.

Then the timer went off, getting your attention. You felt him step away from you, leaving your face a wet mess. It wouldn’t hurt to guess him again, soon enough you’d be bound to get it right, “Yuji?” You asked while you felt him lower the fabric from your eyes.

“Correct!” Itadori beamed down at you with a playful smile, the way his lips curved upward was contagious, and you couldn’t help but grin back. He pulled his shirt off and threw it to the side casually.

“Can you fuck me while I lay down? I’m feeling a bit tired.” You asked smoothly, batting your pretty eyelashes up at the pink-haired man.

“Of course, baby! Let me take care of you.” He hummed as he guided you onto your back. Your legs dangled off the edge of its cushions and Itadori kneeled between your thighs. His warm brown eyes gleamed at you dreamily. He rubbed the head of his dick against your slippery entrance, then he slowly inserted himself into you. Even though you were already turned on and ready to go, his gentle approach melted your heart. Once he was fully inside you, he paused and groaned out in sick pleasure. “Ohh… you’re so fucking wet.”

Itadori placed both of his hands on your plump breasts and faintly groped them. He softly moved his dick in and out of you, but quickly became impatient. “C-can I fuck you rough?” He muttered pleadingly through his narrowed eyebrows, he was clearly holding himself back. Itadori saw how aggressive Megumi was with you, but he didn’t want to overstep his boundaries.

You smiled wryly at him, “What if I said no? And you had to go slow and gentle?” You teased with an arched brow.

That fucking tease, let me have her right now.

Demanded Sukuna in Yuji’s head, but Itadori ignored him and shoved Ryomen to the back of his mind.

“Then I’d respect that, I’ll treat you like a delicate flower if that’s what you wanted,” Itadori murmured while leaning forward to kiss you faintly. “But it would be so hard to restrain myself, especially from you.”

With that being said, your pussy automatically clenched around him desperately. Feeling that, Yuji flashed you a smug grin, “I think I know what you want.”

“Oh yeah?” You said with an aroused look on your face.

“Yeah,” Itadori smirked while brutally plowing his rod into your cunt, earning a sexy moan from you. “You want me to dick you down good, that’s what- you want.” He shoved his cock into you again, this time extra deep.

“Mmm hmm.” You whined while wrapping your legs around his toned waist.

You didn’t have to tell Itadori twice. It was as if a switch went off and he rabidly pumped himself into you like a wild animal. Moans fell from your lips with every thrust, Itadori leaned down and made out with you ravishingly. You loved how special he made you feel.

You instinctively clutched onto his shoulders as he railed you, knowing that you’d leave faint scratches on his skin. “Oh, Yuji!” You whined as he brought his hot mouth down to the crook of your neck. You sucked on his skin hungrily.

You forgot how powerful Itadori was, each time he collided his hips against yours, your whole body would ride up the futon. Eventually, your head dangled off the edge due to Yuji’s mighty thrusts. While writhing in pleasure, you accidentally made eye contact with Satoru. Your teacher observed you both with a lustful look in his eye. Yuji is finally getting a piece of the action he thought humorously.

Yuji then grabbed ahold of your slim waist and dragged you back down hastily. He put his hands back on your boobs as if they belonged there and continued to plow himself into you. With each mighty thrust, he would gasp quietly for air. Which fired you up even more, his little sighs were just too hot.

Itadori looked at you with such admiration, as sweat shone on his face. You’re just so incredibly gorgeous and to top it off you had a beautiful body. He adored your sweet personality and how you interact with others. After this, he plans on asking your boyfriends if he could be the fourth.

Fuck, asking those weaklings if you could be her boyfriend. Just take her for yourself you pussy.

Itadori ignored Sukuna’s. He needs to focus on cumming soon, otherwise, his turn will be up before he knows it. He pounded into you with a sense of urgency now, making sure to hit that pleasurable spot up inside you. Small cries of delight came from your lips as you pulled him closer and kissed him feverishly.

“Cum in me.” You murmured against his hot mouth.

Those words alone sent Itadori over the edge and he pumped himself into you a few rough times before losing it. As his dick hit your G-spot, you came in union with him. Both of you shuddered in pleasure as you covered his rod with your release. He shot his clear sticky liquid into you profusely, you could feel his length twitch while he emptied himself inside you.

Right on cue, the timer went off and Itadori pulled his head from the crook of your neck. You looked up at him contently; but right before your eyes, Yuji’s kind brown eyes gleamed a ferocious red. Tattoos formed on his face and shoulders and the energy in the room shifted into an all too dark and familiar one.

“S-Sukuna.” You were pinned underneath him and had nowhere to go, you felt like cornered prey.

“I’m back for more darling.” Ryomen purred lowly, he then licked the shell of your ear seductively. Being so close to the King of Curses, caused your entire body to shiver with fear.

All the other males who sat on the couch watching this ordeal unfold before them jumped up and were ready to defend you.

“Get off- ahh.” Inumaki’s cursed speech was a futile attempt against the King of Curses. All Sukuna did was shoot your boyfriend a glare and Toge started coughing up blood.

“No, don’t hurt them!” You cried out from underneath Sukuna’s ripped body.

Ryomen looked down at you cockily, “Oh? And what if I do-“

“You won’t be able to.” Interrupted Satoru. “Cause, I’ll end you. Right here, right now.” He warned venomously.

Sukuna whirled his head to look at Satoru with a challenging smile, “Calm down Honored One,” he sneered, “I was only joking. I’m just here to have some fun with the girl. I’ll let the brat take over once my seven minutes are up, got it?”

“Only if it’s ok with Y/n.” Gojo retorted with his arms crossed.

Ryomen looked down at you with a sadistic smirk, “What do you say Y/n? Wanna enjoy me sober this time?”

You quivered nervously underneath him, the night you shared with Itadori and Sukuna was a hazy one. You were heavily intoxicated and can only recall bits and pieces of what happened. You remember getting fucked rough by Sukuna in the bathroom. You recall enjoying it, even though he was incredibly scary. The encounter was a bit fragmented though… but then again, the following day you woke with brutal scratches and bite marks all over your body. Which Inumaki was not a fan of and he told your other boyfriends in the group chat that he didn’t Yuji near you ever again.

Despite the drama, Itadori was permitted to come and to strictly keep Sukuna at bay. But it seemed that was out of his control…

“You have my permission. Only if you don’t make me bleed.” You stated trying to sound stern, but your voice wavered with fear.

“Deal,” Sukuna said with a sharp-toothed smile.

Gojo’s glowing blue eyes looked at Sukuna coldly, “Very well, your timer starts now.”

“Excellent. Now let’s get this shit off of you.” Ryomen grunted while aggressively ripping off the one-piece teddy you wore. He tossed the dainty fabric to the floor, “I’ll keep the collar on you, just because it has an ‘S’ for Sukuna.” He said lowly, while Satoru rolled his eyes to himself.

Ryomen lowered his hot mouth down to your neck. Being so close to this malicious curse felt wrong and your body instinctively squirmed with panic. His hot mouth bit down on your neck and sucked roughly, he was claiming you as his in front of everyone. Sukuna maintained his gaze toward your boyfriends while marking you, daring them to challenge him. He made sure not to break your fragile skin, his large hands clasped themselves in yours possessively. He pinned both of your hands above your head and pulled away to admire the conflicted and flustered look on your face.

Ryomen could tell that you were noticeably shaken by terror, and the look of fear in your gorgeous eyes made his cock ache for you. “It’s ok to be scared in my presence, you have every right to be.” He taunted while keeping his ferocious gaze on your pretty face, he clasped both of your wrists in his left hand and brought his right hand down to your chin. He cupped your face gruffly and forcefully placed his lips on yours. His kiss felt incredibly intense, and the hair on the back of your neck stood up. This was so wrong, but it felt as if your body was getting drawn to his darkness. You involuntarily fell under his spell and kissed him back hotly.

Knowing that Gojo was here and moderating the situation helped ease your nerves, “Yeah, just surrender to me.” Sukuna growled against your lips while you felt the tip of his girthy dick deliciously rub against your entrance. A small mewl fell from your lips and into Ryomen’s mouth, he smirked cockily. “Good girl.” With that being said, he rammed himself into you greedily.

“Ahh!” You screamed out in a mixture of pain and pleasure, you tried to rip your hands out of his grasp and crawl away, but he held you firmly.

“Mmh, don’t think you can go anywhere…” Sukuna growled menacingly. You were able to feel his dick twitch inside of you with delight. He stretched you out similarly to Gojo’s dick, but it was the sheer and brutal force behind Sukuna’s thrust, that made it sting. “Now, let’s show them who you belong to.”

In a flash; he stood you up, turned you around, and bent you over. His hands roughly gripped the slim of your waist and he bullied his monstrous cock inside your slick cunt. He vigorously pounded himself into you, each thrust had incredible tenacity behind it. Despite his roughness, your pussy squelched around him in satisfaction. “That’s my little slut, I knew you missed me,” Sukuna grunted out from behind you.

He lifted your waist in the air and walked over to Noritoshi. He practically railed you over top of him, you felt him grab your hair harshly and force you to look into Kamo’s slate-gray eyes. “Tell him you love my dick.”

Your cheeks flushed at his demand, “That’s mean. I- ohh…” Sukuna deliberately came in contact with your g-spot, “shouldn’t.” You finished your sentence with a breathy sigh.

“Don’t care.” He hissed in your ear, “Do. It.” Ryomen ordered as he viscously pumped himself into you.

You shook your head in retaliation, “No…” you whimpered meekly.

“Defying me will get you nowhere. Perhaps, you need a little inspiration.” At lightning speed, Sukuna’s muscular hand aggressively gripped Noritoshi’s throat.

Kamo was taken aback by the massive wave of dark energy coming off the curse in front of him. Having his hand grip Noritoshi’s throat, there was nothing he could do but freeze. His muscles were at a standstill still even though he wanted to fight back.

“Stop it!” You cried, bringing both of your hands up to Sukuna’s forearm. But he gruffly grabbed your thin wrists and pinned them behind your back.

“Say it, and I’ll stop.” Grunted Sukuna as he continued to push himself into you.

Kamo couldn’t breathe and he hated that his body wouldn’t let him fight back. All he was able to do was stare at your fear-stricken face as the King of Curses claimed your body as his.

“I-I love his dick.” You muttered under your breath, not looking at Kamo, as your body jolted from every thrust.

“No! Say it right. Say my name.” Sukuna threatened you, squeezing your wrists and Kamo’s neck forcefully.

“Ow!” You whined in response to the sharp pain, “OK! I love your dick Sukuna!” You moaned out and just as he promised, he briskly let go of Noritoshi’s throat. Kamo gasped in air immediately, he wanted to detest him, but his soul and body knew better than to provoke Ryomen Sukuna.

“Way to go! Now was that so hard?” The curse cooed against the back of your neck in approval, “Now let’s do the same thing to each of these weaklings.”

Before you could respond, Ryomen brought you over to Megumi, who was glaring daggers at Sukuna. The King of Curses paid no mind to him and continued to blow your back out over the top of your boyfriend. “Tell him you belong to me.”

“But he’s my boyfriend… ahh!” You cried out in hot sick pleasure as Sukuna deliberately fucked you at a faster speed.

“Say it. Unless you want him to suffocate too.” Ryomen barked sternly while leaning forward to leave a fat hickey on your shoulder, purposely overtop Megumi’s. You squirmed with pleasure underneath his molten mouth.

You didn’t want Sukuna to harm Fushiguro so you obediently said, “I belong to Sukuna-ahh!” You cried out in bliss. Why did his dick have to hit all the right places inside of you? You found it hard to be mad at the monster, because of how good he made you feel.

Despite the harsh words Sukuna was forcing you to say, Fushiguro couldn’t help but love how adorably horny you looked. Your boyfriend simply looked at you with a small smirk on his face and knew that you’d apologize and make up for it back home. He tried to lean forward to give you a reassuring kiss, but Ryomen harshly ripped you out of Fushiguro’s grasp. You were now hovering over Satoru, who couldn’t help but admire the fucked-out-look on your alluring face.

“Tell him my dick is superior,” Sukuna smirked at Gojo over your petite body. Satoru cockily rolled his eyes at his words, that was obviously a lie.

Getting railed so pleasurably made your brain go foggy, you felt as if you needed to please the Sukuna. You were his little slut now and did what the King of Curses wanted. “Sukuna’s dick is… mmh. Superior. Kiss me…” You were able to feel your fourth orgasm bubbling up inside you, and you knew you wouldn’t be able to last any longer. Satoru smiled at your request and kissed you passionately, his hand cupped your chin lovingly. But before you knew it your body was bouncing in front of Mechamaru.

Kokichi wasn’t a fan of this public display of degradation, but calming the noticeable hard-on in his pants was out of his control. He couldn’t help but get turned on while watching you take Sukuna’s dick so perfectly.

“Tell him my dick feels better.” Sukuna groaned in your ear, enjoying the way your pussy sucked him in effortlessly.

“Sukuna’s dick feels better.” You whimpered overtop of Muta, while your pleading eyes met his. Kokichi couldn’t help but blatantly check you out while having your petite naked body so close to his. Having his cock in you felt so long ago, and he wanted to have another go at you.

Up next was your sweet Yuuta. He was worried about you at first, but after realizing that you were enjoying Ryomen’s length, he was content with watching your pretty face contort with pleasure. While observing this scenario unfold, he too struggled to calm his boner.

“Tell him my dick is all you need.”

“Sukuna’s dick is all I need… mmh yeah.” You gasped out in ecstasy, Sukuna bounced you on his cock scrumptiously, and everyone was able to hear how noticeably wet you were, and that shifted the energy in the room back to how it was earlier. The hostility toward Ryomen was long forgotten and the other males enjoyed the show he put on with you.

Yuuta’s gaze met yours lovingly, “You’re so pretty.” He cooed with approval.

Lastly, you could barely hold yourself up in front of Inumaki, Sukuna released your hands and you pulled in your boyfriend for a heated kiss. “Tell him you only want my cum in you.”

“I only want Sukuna’s cum in me.” You whined under your breath, and speaking of, “Just make me cum already.”

“Oh? What makes you think you can give me orders?” Ryomen sneered from behind you, giving your ass a brutal slap. You cried out in a mixture of pain and enticement. He knew that he was pushing on seven minutes real quick. It was time to finish. His hands gripped your waist securely while he ruthlessly smashed himself into you. You were beyond exhausted and found yourself falling victim to gravity. Sukuna picked up on this and hoisted you up, so your feet weren’t even on the ground. Each powerful thrust sent his dick bullying against your cervix, making you cry out. Inumaki pressed his lips against yours tantalizingly while Sukuna demolished you aggressively. You couldn't hold it back any longer, and drenched Ryomen’s rod with your cum.

“Your pussy is too fucking perfect… you’re mine.” Groaned Sukuna as he emptied himself nice and deep inside of you.

Your lips were glued on your boyfriends, while you felt Sukuna’s dick shoot his continuous strands of seed in you. He twirled you around with his cock still lodged up inside you and pulled you close to his chest. He pressed his lips against yours passionately, “If you need a good fucking, you know where to f-“

Suddenly, the timer went off, and Sukuna’s fiery red gaze transitioned to Yuji’s soft brown one, just as promised.

“Oh, sorry about Sukuna. I have a hard time reining him in whenever I’m around you.” Itadori admitted sheepishly, running his hand through his pink hair. “I’m just glad he didn’t hurt you.” Yuji gave you a gentle hug and then pulled his spent member from your damp core. As soon as he pulled out a few streams of clear cum came running down your thighs.

You could barely stand, so Itadori swooped you up and gingerly set you down on the futon. He helped you put the blindfold back on. You smiled at his gentle treatment toward you. Now there are only two guys left, Toge and Yuuta.

Next

[temis-de-leon]

Solomon x gn!reader in trad goth attire

Characters: Solomon, reader

Masterlist

Anon request: Hey again! ☆ can i request Solomon reacting to !gn reader dressing in traditional goth wardrobe for the first time?

Prompt can be changed to you liking and whether it's in the form of a fic, headcanons or shitpost is up to you ♡☆

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A/N: I based MC's clothes and makeup on 80's trad goth fashion. MC is a lil' black sheep and Solomon (and me) are simping for them. This is set at the start of season 2 in the OG game. Hope you enjoy it!

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Solomon didn’t really think about the way you looked. He’d seen Asmo make infinite assumptions about your appearance and he had to admit he put some input from time to time, but he didn’t really mind. He was content talking to and seeing your adorable miniature bovine body, black wool and all.

And it was that, the wool, what they should’ve taken into consideration when wondering about the real version of you.

There he stood, mere feet away from you, gawking as you talked on the phone; one of the brothers, perhaps? Your figure seemed impossibly tall, clashing against the crowd on your black attire: long leather coat almost touching the floor, a concoction of lace and velvet on your upper body and fishnets making your legs even lengthier.

He couldn’t stop staring; not even when the people around him looked at him in reprimand, surely taking him as a creep.

Then you blocked the phone and his plans of reinserting himself into your life as his usual mysterious self were forgotten. Rushing towards you, still transfixed by what he was seeing, Solomon called your name.

“Over here, MC!”

“Solomon?!”

He relished in your dumbfounded expression, giving himself the freedom to study you from up-close. Your face was as white as a sheet of paper and your eyes were framed by a complicated design of thick black lines. The hair on your head vaguely reminded him of the wool you had as a sheep, wild with no sense of direction, and he couldn’t help but smile at the comparison.

“You’re staring an awful lot and saying little to nothing”

Solomon chuckled, not embarrassed at all, and you smiled. The colour of your lips matched the makeup surrounding your gaze.

“I’m merely admiring you, MC. I never expected you to have this fashion style”

“And? Does my fashion style live to your expectations?”

He checked your lips again and didn’t bother to hide his interest when you bit your bottom one. Its contrast against the white of your teeth and the rest of your face didn’t let him stop staring.

Obsessing.

“I’d say it does more than that”

There was silence for a few seconds, other humans around you going through their lives without knowing what was happening between you two. Did you even know?

You finally laughed and lightly punched his arm, breaking the trance and leaving a certain tension behind. Solomon smiled in return and chose to leave the topic, at least for the time being.

“What are you doing here? It’s been so long!”

He sighed in a dramatic flair.

“Well, you know me… I’ve been occupied”

“And you show up now because…?”

You raised your eyebrows, making him laugh. He couldn’t distract you even if he tried, probably because he himself was distracted.

Your lips were so black.

“I was thinking…”

“You think too much”

“I was thinking. How do you feel about a brief visit to the Devildom?”

He enjoyed your immediate interest, back straightening as you got close to him in delight.

“What do you mean?”

“Surely you miss the brothers, right? And of course they miss you too, so, wouldn’t a quick trip be worth our while?

The mistrust in your eyes was quickly overpowered by your eagerness, the crosses in your earrings and your necklaces calling for his attention when they clanged like a wind chime.

“Perhaps you want to take those off”

“Oh, yeah”

Fingernails were black too, but your jewellery was entirely made of silver and stones, big and small, carefully placed in all your digits, your wrists and everything that allowed to wear something.

It became hypnotizing and he couldn’t avoid blushing in embarrassment when you finally snapped your fingers in his face while laughing in amusement.

Solomon couldn’t help but redirect his vision to your lips one last time.

How would he look with black lipstick?

Care to stick with him a little longer, MC?

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[the-monkeies-girl]

okay i’m so sorry and wishing you love and light i’m just so lost with all the monkey fucking you wish to do 😭 what is planet of the apes? why are we attracted to them? why do they get one shots? what is going ON IN MY MULTIFANDOM FOLLOW

Well, first of all they're Apes, not monkeys lol. Anthropomorphic, tbh. I really do suggest watching the movies for more of the back story on them ( Outside of the thirst of them, the stories are very well done and the CGI / Motion capture for them are revolutionary!!! )

Essentially for a recap though, there is a drug that a human develops to cure Alzheimers and the Chimps they were testing on and exposed to the injection gain advances in intelligence and other aspects.

The offspring of the Chimp that is exposed to it first is the main of the first trilogy ( Caesar ) and he leads the Apes to freedom while the next wave of the drug begins to kill humans in an event called the Simian Flu. Some Humans are immune, with this they are able to survive in smaller colonies/camps.

We just started the ball ( haha pun lol ) rolling on the second trilogy ( Starting with kingdom ) and the main here is Noa and will follow his story for two more movies.

And there is intentions for there to be another trilogy after this current one wraps up that they want to use to bridge the gap between the Original old movies and the new ones ( There is a lot of time between them, haha. ) They really want one big continuous timeline!

Secondly, it's a large franchise that started way back in the 1960's. I write only for the rebooted series from 2011-present day. ( Rise, Dawn, War and Kingdom. )

Let's take a look at the Harkness Test for wanting to fuck them:

Let's get to the nitty gritty here.

Attraction is in the eye of the beholder, but I mean? There's implications of sexual Human/Ape relationships that date all the way back to the original movies. ( Literally there was a test for a hum-ape hybrid lol. )

There's a kiss in the original between a human male and female ape.

The rebooted ( And failed ) attempt by Tim Burton showcases a Female Evolved Ape being infatuated with Mark Wahlberg's character and they share a very tender moment and kiss.

There's a lot more I'm missing but you probably get the point here.

Alrighty let's fuck up our Ape Men!

They're very pretty.............. And a lot of the attraction comes from their personalities which are all varied and very interesting to dive into and their actors too given these movies are in motion capture and a lot of their facial features are very human-like in nature.

Caesar:

Noa:

Blue Eyes:

Koba:

Soona:

They are smart.

They are cool.

They each have individual qualities personality and appearance wise so everyone gets a little taste of what they like!

And my blog is a shame-free zone so if you don't vibe with the monster-fuckers and the Chimp Simps, feel free to unfollow.

[scarlett-vixen]

Summary: Just my thoughts on how Mammon is handling things while MC is dealing with the Nightbringer timeline. Disclaimer: I could not be bothered to go back and check the first few lessons to see what we did and didn’t know so just….use imagination if I got stuff wrong alcksnns

Three weeks had already gone by since you left unexpectedly.

“Hey Mams, I’m running to the store real quick to grab extra sides for dinner tonight! You wanna come with?”

For whatever reason Mammon had declined to join you. It was now a deep regret. Why did he say no? He was your right hand demon, your first man, the two of you were always seen together and yet he had said no. Maybe he had grown so used to you going off on your own that he thought nothing of it. Maybe he had been too comfortable with you always returning. Admittedly, your first year in the Devildom Mammon was almost over protective of you. He threw a fit any time you went somewhere without him but after four years of visiting he had grown out of that habit, still sulking when you went off with his brothers or on your own but not nearly as insecure as before, he knew you’d return to him every time.

“Alright well I’ll be back later then! Don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone!”

Those were the last words you had said.

At the time Mammon had scoffed, ‘don’t do anything stupid?’ When has The Great Mammon ever done anything stupid?? Three weeks later and he was starting to realize all the stupid things he had done in the past, all his mistakes, all his screw ups, all his failed plans to make fast money, all the lectures he’d received from Lucifer for his stupidity. All the times you’d been there to bail him out.

“Don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone!”

It was a simple request, but was becoming harder to do the longer you were gone. You always kept him in check, reminding him that even if he was able to steal the 600 billion grimm vase from the Demon Lords Castle, Diavolo would eventually find out, talking him out of selling his brothers belongings or darkest secrets on the deep web, and saving him from Lucifer’s wrath when he really screwed up. Maybe if he had known you when they first arrived he wouldn’t have been labeled a scumbag by the rest of the Devildom, maybe he’d just be “Mammon, Avatar of Greed and Simp for the Human Exchange Student” instead of “Mammon, The Scummiest Demon to Ever Exist and Will Try to Steal Your Wallet”.

“I’ll be back later!”

Later. What an unfair word to use. Mammon thought “later” meant a few hours before dinner, but dinner had long since passed and his appetite was dwindling day but day. Did you know what you meant by “later”?

Lucifer had seemed…off… when he announced your sudden departure, he sounded calm and collected like usual but being the second born, Mammon knew his older brother was hiding something.

“MC and Solomon are currently assisting Lord Diavolo with a task in the human world, we have been instructed to NOT visit the human world in their absence. Lord Diavolo does not know how long their task will take but ensures that they will both be home relatively soon.”

It was faint, nearly non existent, but Mammon heard the way Lucifer’s voice wavered as he said “does not know”. His younger brothers were too busy protesting, wanting to know what was so important that you had been sent home during THEIR time with you, demanding they be allowed to call you. Mammon had slipped out unnoticed, gone to his room and sat watching his phone in silence.

Even if you were on some secret mission for Diavolo, even if HE wasn’t allowed to contact YOU, Mammon knew that if you were in danger you’d contact him. So he would wait. When you didn’t come home after three days Lucifer’s mood started to change, Levi said he was turning back into strict Lucifer because you weren’t here to knock him down a peg, Mammon didn’t believe that.

Levi had it partially right though, Lucifer was reverting back to his old ways, in fact they all were. Levi was grouchy and hiding more, Belphie slept practically all day every day in the attic, Beel was eating everything in sight and pacing the kitchen late at night, Asmo kept his face in a mirror all day and was changing his nail polish every hour it seemed. The only one who didn’t really seem to change was Satan. No, that wasn’t true, Satan had changed too, but not back to his old angry “ticking time bomb” ways, instead he was holed up in the library or his room constantly.

“Whatcha readin Lil Bro?” Mammon asked as casually as he could, only to be met with the icy stare only his brother could cast.

“What have we talked about Mammon.”

“Right, my bad. Uhm, How’s the book?” Mammon tried again.

“Puzzling. I thought I understood the logic but then I got to page 12 and it all logic went out the window.” Satan continued to flip through the pages as he spoke. Beginners Guide to Understanding Time Travel, Wormholes and Beyond was printed in a shimmering purple on the front cover. Time travel? Since when does Satan care about that stuff? Mammon started to speak and then noticed the pile of books around Satan’s chair, each one having to do with time travel, teleportation, unexpected wormholes, vanishing spells gone wrong and such. That sounds more on track, Satan isn’t angry because he’s distracted.

“Does Barbatos seem to be acting weird to you?” Satan asked abruptly, snapping his book closed as he did.

“Wha- Barbatos? You mean weirder than he normally is? No? Don’t really talk to ‘em much though…Why?” Mammon was starting to put the pieces together but he wasn’t liking the picture.

“Oh…nevermind then, I thought of all demons you might be in the same mindset as me.” Satan opened his book back up and started tapping his finger on the side, his tell that his nerves were getting to him.

“Hey.”

The word was sharp and stern, but had a soft undertone. Satan looked up at his older brother who seemed very serious now compared to how he had entered earlier.

“They’re coming back. Lucifer said so.”

Satan’s face fell in shame, foolish of him to think Mammon didn’t know what he was up to. The second born felt a little guilty after watching the way Satan shifted uncomfortably in his chair, he hadn’t meant to sound so harsh, he knew his brothers were all missing you and that slowly but surely they’d all be at each other’s throat because of it.

“Listen, I know you ‘n Lucifer don’t see eye to eye all the time but,” Mammon paused for a minute, this was your speech you always gave when Satan was being stubborn or refusing to listen, he felt his throat tighten up at the thought of not having you here to give it. “Just trust him this time alright?”

A thick silence filled the room, Satan gave a small nod as Mammon turned to leave. Feeling a knot form in his stomach, Mammon headed upstairs, it was one thing to give himself false hope but filling his brothers with it? That was a harder pill to swallow.

“Make it quick.”

Before he could even knock Lucifer’s voice called from inside the quiet office. The second born entered slowly and shut the heavy oak door as quietly as he could behind him. Lucifer was bent over his desk doing paperwork per usual but there was a noticeable difference.

The record player that normally had his favorite cursed record playing while he worked sat silent, the only noise in the room came from the crackling of the fireplace, Lucifer himself looked like he had just gone for a twenty minute jog with Cerberus. His jacket tossed haphazardly on the couch in his office, his shirt untucked and unbuttoned at the top, his hair disheveled, his face twisted in the way it did when he was going over the credit card bills. The thing that alarmed Mammon most though was the number of coffee cups scattered around the room, coupled with the number of empty Demonus bottles on the table in front of the fireplace.

“Do you need something Mammon or are you just looking for things to steal?” Lucifer snapped, still looking at the papers in front of him.

“Hey! Who do-” The Avatar of Greed stopped himself, now wasn’t the time for arguing. “Actually yeah, I had a few questions…”

“Fine,” Lucifer let out an exasperated sigh, propping on elbow up on his desk and resting his head in hand while still scanning the documents below. “Go ahead.”

Mammon tried to think of how to phrase his question, but how do you calmly ask if the love of your life is okay? If they’re coming back? If they’re even still alive? He knew his window was closing and gave up on being subtle, Lucifer always preferred straightforward questions right?

“Where’s MC?”

The question hung in the air for a minute before Lucifer responded.

“In the human world Mammon, we’ve been over this. No you can not go visit, no you can not call them and NO I will not tell you where in the human world. Is that all your questions answered?” Lucifer spoke with his usual confidence but the pause between the question and his response gave Mammon the real answer.

“You won’t tell me ‘cause you’re not allowed to or ‘cause you don’t actually know where they are?”

“What?” Lucifer’s voice was suddenly very quiet, Mammon was familiar with the tone though, it had been his own tone several times. Only used when caught in a lie.

“Just tell me the truth Lucifer. They’re not actually in the human world are they?”

“What.” Lucifer’s voice much louder and more stern this time.

“You don’t know where MC is do ya?” Mammon felt his own voice begin to shake, the thought had been chewing at him for weeks but saying it out loud felt like swallowing razor blades.

“Of course I know where they are.” The first born now staring his younger brother down, eyes filled with a familiar rage. Mammon knew he was still lying though.

“Tch, ya right, if ya knew where they were then why do you have a list of locations in the human world on your desk with different places marked out??”

“This is a part of their task with Solomon and it’s none of your concern.”

“Actually, it is! They’re my human too!”

“I don’t have time for—”

“Where are they Lucifer.”

“I told you Mamm—”

“Where are they!”

“I can’t tell y—”

“WHERE ARE THEY?”

“I DON’T KNOW! I HAVE NO IDEA MAMMON! DIAVOLO DOESN’T KNOW, BARBATOS DOESN’T KNOW! WE HAVE NO IDEA WHERE THEY ARE!”

Lucifer had jumped to his feet when he began to yell, he now stood with both hands pressed firmly on the desk below him, out of breath from shouting and head hung low. Mammon stood on the other side of the large desk, eyes brimming with tears, both from rage and sadness of knowing you were lost. He started to express his rage when Lucifer began to speak again, this time in a tone that Mammon had never heard from him before, this Lucifer sounded guilty, exhausted and overall defeated.

“MC was last seen in town running errands, the time of disappearance is still unclear. Barbatos believes it may be a skip in the timeline, Solomon went after them.”

“How’d he go after ‘em? Does he know where they went?”

“No. Solomon went after MC blindly, Solomon has strong enough magic to return to us if and when he finds MC, but…MC’s magic is still questionable. We haven’t heard from either of them since MC first went missing. Nobody knows where they went. Nobody knows if they’ll return.”

Lucifer dropped heavily into his chair, eyes closed but fresh tears staining his cheeks. Mammon couldn’t remember the last time he saw his brother cry, it was a sight that filled him with more fear than an angry Lucifer could ever try to do.

“When’s the last time you slept?” Lucifer scoffed at the question.

“As if you have room to ask such a thing, we both know the answer to that anyway. Coffee is to stay awake. Demonus is to numb the pain; not helping much anymore though.”

“Ya can’t keep drinking your issues away, it’s not healthy and it ain’t bringing them back faster. You need to actually sleep Lucifer, gonna burn yourself out sittin here all day everyday lookin at these damn maps!” Mammon had never been so bold with his brother before, at least not about self care. Lucifer gave him a puzzled look before chuckling.

“How is it that you know exactly what they would say to me if they were here? I suppose there is a benefit to you always following them around after all.” Lucifer began to clear things off his desk, folding papers up and placing pens back in his desk. “You're right Mammon, I need to rest. Did you have any other questions?"

"No…..I'm good." Mammon turned to leave and was nearly out the door when he felt Lucifer's hand on his shoulder.

"I trust you know this already……but you can not tell the others.

"Don't worry, I won't." Mammon continued on his way down the hall in silence. He entered his room and flopped down on his bed, rolling over to check his phone. The screen lit up with the photo of you at the RAD festival last year, the smile on your face lighting a fire inside him.

Mammon couldn't help but feel like he'd lived through this once before, a faint image of you walking through a doorway, promising to return, but never coming home. His heart sank at the thought. It had to have been a really vivid nightmare, that’s all.

"I’Il be back later!"

It didn't matter if nobody knew where you were. It didn't matter if you had gone back in time, if you had gone to a different time line, or if you were just in a different realm. It didn't matter if his mind tried to tell him this had happened before.

You'd return to them.

You always did.

[theholypeanut]

♪ To All The Girls You Loved Before ♪

Cw: gn!reader, Otoya slander, Otoya being a lovesick simp, Blood, mentioning of hooking up (not with reader), aged up characters (university), fluff?? kinda?? Mostly comedy I’d say, using words like whore or slut, but I promise it’s not serious I love Otoya, mentioning of STDs (guys why this cw gets weirder and weirder), Otoya is suggested to be bi here

1,3k words (I’m shocked too)

Birthday Fic for Otoya Eita!!

Otoya Eita was a whore. 

Everyone knew it - at least everyone at the university, in the football club, gym, probably within a 50 kilometers radius from the dorms as well, including supermarkets, flower shops, game arcades, and even the cinema workers (oh they probably knew the best, seeing him every week taking another girl on the same romantic comedy).

Well, it was not a secret, and it was neither something that made you hate or despise him. You had no opinion about him until you met him. 

And you met for the first time in the book shop, when you were looking into a new book by Yoko Ogawa.

Someone next to you dropped their book.

„Ouch, sorry” you heard a deep male voice. „I just accidentally dropped my modern feministic literature. My bad.” He picked up Bad Feminist by Roxane Gay from the floor. This scene was so ridiculous and obnoxious, you couldn’t hold the laughter. 

„Did you literally pick the closest book with the word feminist in it?” You asked amused. He cleared his throat. „No, I’m a big fan of…” he took a quick peak at the cover. „…Roxane Gay”

You smirked and raised your eyebrow. „Ooh really? How did you like Five Guys; My Story of the Polygamist Hexagon?” Eita didn’t even blink. „Actually this one is my favorite” he said with absolutely no shame in his voice. You rolled your eyes with a smile. „It’s not a real book, dumbass. I made it up.” 

Otoya was so used to interactions like this, that he didn’t feel offended at all. „Well sounds like a great read, maybe you should write something like this” he said, putting the book back on the shelf. „However if we start dating I don’t know if I want to have a… polygamist hexagon. Well, at least not with five guys”. He sent you a wink.

You looked at him with a mix of disbelief and amusement. „You are really something else, Otoya” you said, with a smile. „But I’m not gonna lie, that was probably the funniest and the dumbest conversation I had recently. Thanks” And you left him in between the shelves. 

In the beginning, Otoya was planning to just woo you into going on a date with him because you seemed cute. But that was the moment when he fell hard - this bright smile, laughter… He knew his pickup line was awful but you were not really mean to him. You didn’t look at him with disgust. Even more: He never saw the most gorgeous human being with such a beautiful laugh and right now he was dedicated to getting to know you. 

He started to come to the bookshop every single day - he was not obsessed enough to skip trainings (because he was not ready for Yukimiya to kick his ass) but even the elderly lady at the counter started to cheer up for him. 

„You know, young gentleman” she said one evening, seeing him looking in between the shelves. „They are a student at the university close by, I assume they are in their second year since they were buying some textbooks recently” she gave him a hint. The next day Otoya gave her a bouquet of the prettiest flowers he could afford. He was dedicated to finding you. If you knew who he was, then you probably study together. Or did he date your friend? Multiple friends? He hoped not your sibling or mom because that for sure would make things complicated when he will finally propose. 

Yes, this Otoya Eita, a town slut, was already preparing his wedding vows after one interaction. 

„I have no idea what’s their name” he whined to Karasu during the break. „They were the most beautiful person I ever saw…” 

„You say that about every second hook up, Eita” Karasu answered a little annoyed. It's been a week since he started making his failed love life everyone’s problem. Not like he wasn’t whining before, but usually it was after he cheated on a girl and she got angry, not before he even asked anyone out. „Also Jesus, why are you so fixated on the Feminist Book Stranger? You usually take rejection so lightly, I’m surprised to see you so…” 

„Pathetic?” Chigiri suggested, as he was drinking water nearby.

„Pitiful?” Yukimiya added. 

„…Lovesick” Karasu ended. Otoya signed dramatically. „You will be so jealous on my wedding, you will see”

„Well, I don’t think so” Chigiri said after taking another sip of water. „If they know your name, I assume they probably also know your dating history”

He knew. Otoya was well aware of his reputation, but till now he never really cared. Because he never expected to actually fall in love with someone, and even more he never was anxious that his soulmate might find him disgusting and pathetic. 

„At least check yourself for STDs before trying to get into your future spouse’s pants” Reo added after listening to the whole conversation. „I don’t think chlamydia is the best way gift you can give them on the first date.”

Otoya took a mental note that even if he felt a little offended, this was not the worst advice. 

And fate brought you together again, no later than the next day. 

You had an important essay due today and spent every possible moment studying and writing it. You kind of regret you had no time to read for fun anymore, only to drown under the amount of literature you had to read for your university lectures and tests, but there was no other way. There was one particular book you needed to borrow to finally end this monstrosity you’ve been creating, and then you are free… at least until the next essay. You took the turn to the university library. 

„You know, I think I achieved a new low” you heard a feminine voice. „I was looking for a fast hook up and even Otoya ghosted me. This one hurts. I think it's time for therapy or some shit, because if even him…” 

You smirked. Who knows if there are therapists in this city, who get another crying college girl or guy in their chair and can thank Otoya Eita for bringing in more than 20% of their revenue? 

You didn’t want to get caught eavesdropping, so you fast went to the door out of the building, the library was just minutes away. You pushed the door outside with a lot of force… and heard a bang. 

„FUUUUCK” you heard someone swearing right in front of you. It was almost as loud as the laughter that was accompanying it. „Right into your nose dude!” You heard the amused voice. You panicked. „Oh my god, I’m so so sorry” You slide through the door to the poor victim who was not other than… Otoya Eita. He froze for a second, considering if he just died and gone to heaven, that he heard your voice again. He looked up at your face, but his vision was still blurry. 

You took out the tissue from your bag. His nose was bleeding, so you gently pressed the tissue to his face. „Shit, do you have a concussion?” You asked panicked. Karasu stood next to you. „Just ask him something” he suggested, still amused by the situation. You thought for a second. „What's the capital of Malta?” The dark-haired guy looked at you both surprised and amused. „Okay but maybe ask him something he knows”

„I'm fine guys” they heard the weak voice. He looked at Karasu angrily. „Don't you dare flirt with the love of my life!” 

You looked at him confused, then looked at Karasu. „Yeah I think he has a concussion, maybe we should take him to the hospital.” 

Otoya’s nose stopped bleeding and his head was no longer spinning. Somehow you looked even more beautiful than the first time he saw you.

„How about you take me out for dinner, as an apology?” He sent Karasu „the” look. Tabito rolled his eyes in answer. „I’ll leave you two lovebirds here to flirt” he said and started walking away. You were too stunned to speak. You turned back to white haired guy still too confused with what is happening to digest his offer.

„Wait, are you serious right now?”

He smirked.

„So, how about tonight?”

There is gonna be part 2, this is a promise and a threat at the same time, because I had so much fun writing this crack fic

[jessamine-rose]

⋆‧͙*̩̩͙꒰ Disjecta Membra ꒱*̩̩͙‧͙⋆

*sigh* idk what to say at this point. I’m not even a major simp for the Jester but the Pierro brainrot was very infectious. Y’all can thank @frogchiro​ for converting me and @seakicker​ for inspiring this fic  =_=

As always, thank you to @diodellet​ for suffering with me as my peer reviewer!! I’m also grateful to Kin for helping with my characterization of Pierro. I ended up writing about a very detailed darling, but I hope you enjoy their twisted tale nonetheless :>

Tw:: YANDERE, unhealthy relationships, kidnapping, coercion, blood, violence, death, psychological trauma, self-deprecation, needles, spice, mention of nsfw, MINORS DNI

Note:: Female reader who is a fallen goddess, pre-release Pierro

♡ 14.9k words under the cut ♡

i. memento mori

You cooked too much food again.

You stare at your dinner. Out of habit, you had also set the table for two and filled both plates before realizing your mistake. You can’t finish the cream stew all by yourself.

Great, more stale leftovers.

You shake your head and pick up your spoon.

Old habits die hard. You’d made the same mistake before, but it had taken less time for you to adjust. It was easier when someone was still there to correct you.

The kitchen is too quiet. You can only manage a few bites before you grow sick of the empty chair across from you. Picking up your plate and cutlery, you go outside and take a seat at the temple entrance.

The forest is the same as usual, shrouded in a veil of mist. Through the haze, you can spot a few woodland critters darting to and fro. Somewhere in the trees, a pair of birds are singing a harmonious duet. The pasithea flowers are in full bloom.

You wave your hand and the mist rises. The berry bushes look ripe for picking. You can already imagine the many—no, Oizys won’t be here to enjoy your cooking.

“Help.”

You startle. Has a human entered your territory?

You can sense a distressed voice along with weak movement. From what you can tell, the wanderer must be at the edge of the forest, close enough to reach the mist.

You fix your veil, draping the sheer fabric over your face, and leave the temple.

It doesn’t take long to find him. The human is slumped against a tall tree surrounded by achlys flowers. His breathing feels unsteady.

“Hello?” You slowly approach him, clearing the mist.

He doesn’t acknowledge you. You lean down to examine him.

The poor thing looks close to death. His silver hair is messy and there is a cut on the side of his face. Judging by the weapons on his person, could he be a combatant? No, his torn clothes look too fancy for an ordinary soldier.

You tap his shoulder. “Can you hear me, dear?”

He opens his eyes.

Four-pointed stars.

You draw back. Those diamond-shaped pupils...this human is clearly from Khaenri’ah.

He lifts his head, blinking blearily. Based on appearance alone, he seems too weak to attack you.

You don’t sense anyone else within the forest. You could easily give this person first aid then hide in your temple. It shouldn’t take long for him to find the city once he recovers.

A hand weakly grips your wrist. The Khaenri'ahn dazedly looks up at you.

“Who are you?”

No, that would be absolutely cruel.

You crouch down, touching his forehead with the back of your hand. His temperature is too warm. And now that you’ve taken a closer look, is that blood on his clothes?

“Shh, it’s all right,” you whisper, offering a soft smile. “You’re safe here.”

The Khaenri'ahn stares at you for a few more seconds before his eyes flutter shut. His hand lets go of your wrist and falls to his side—did he pass out already?

You glance at the berry bushes and mutter a silent apology.

At least your dinner won’t go to waste.

ii. mea culpa

Thankfully, the Khaenri'ahn’s injuries aren’t too severe. After treating his wounds, you tuck him in bed and wait for him to wake up.

Even in slumber, his expression is weary. There are faded scars mixed in with his bandages. Has he been wandering Teyvat since the fall of his nation? How did he survive?

What should you do with him?

His expression stirs, followed by a pained noise. The diamond pupils are exposed.

“Ah, you’re awake!” you exclaim, rushing to his bedside. “Do you feel better?”

“What?” He turns his head in your direction, clearly confused.

You raise a cup to his lips. “Here, drink some water first.”

He finishes the entire glass. You point at the pitcher on the nightstand.

“Are you still thirsty? Or would you like something to eat?”

He shakes his head, looking at you warily. “Not now…where am I?”

“You’re in a safe place.” You smile, placing a hand on his bandaged shoulder. “No one will hurt you in my temple.”

His eyes widen. “Your temple?”

He lunges forward. A shocked cry leaves your lips as he sits up and grabs your arm.

“You.” His gaze turns hostile. “You are a god.”

Huh, he found out sooner than intended.

“That I am.”

You might as well reveal your true form. Wispy gray marks spread across your skin.

He holds your arm in a bruising grip. “What do you intend to do with me?”

“Believe it or not, I wanted to save your life.” You hold his gaze through your veil. “Don’t worry, even if my intentions were cruel, I am quite harmless for a god.”

“And who are you, exactly?”

You wince as he strengthens his hold on you. Are humans normally this strong?

“You may call me ______,” you reply calmly. “That is the name I go by nowadays. But since you are asking for my true identity, I’ll be honest: I am █████ the God of Mist.”

He glances at the shadowy swirls on your arm. “I have never heard of your title.”

“That is to be expected,” you reply. “Now could you please let go of me? I understand your aggression, but I can’t properly care for you with a broken arm.”

The Khaenri'ahn’s gaze is clear this time. Those diamond pupils fixate on your face then his bandages. After looking around the guest room, he reluctantly lets go of you.

“There, was that so difficult?” you ask him. “I am sure that you have many questions, and I can promise you my full honesty. But for now, you must rest.”

“I can—”

He tries to leave the bed, only to stumble. You catch him in time.

“Now, what did I tell you? Don’t overexert yourself.” Shaking your head, you help him back into bed. “May I know your name, dear?”

The distrustful look he gives you is an adequate response.

“Not willing? Fine, that is a wise precaution.” You check your arm for lingering marks from his grasp. “Moving on, I cooked cream stew earlier. Would you like some?”

A moment of silence precedes his response.

“Yes,” he mutters sheepishly, “and pardon my hostility.”

You smile at him. “No offense taken. It isn’t everyday that someone treats me this way.”

*✧･ﾟ

The Khaenri'ahn remains cautious. In a few weeks, he regains enough strength to leave his bed and walk around the temple. You regularly change his bandages.

“Good, you don’t seem to be sick anymore.” You remove your hand from his forehead and leave the temple. “But it will take more time for your injuries to heal.”

It would be faster if Vesta were here.

He follows you. Since leaving the guest room, he has been watching you go about your daily routine. Cooking, foraging, doing laundry, cleaning the temple, checking the animal traps.

“For a god, you live quite a humble lifestyle,” he muses. “I assumed that you would have a horde of followers catering to your every need.”

“Hardly!” you scoff. “That isn’t my style of worship.”

The path ahead of you is obscured by mist. You are quick to catch the Khaenri'ahn when he trips on the steep slope.

“Are you all right?”

“I am fine,” he mutters, averting eye contact. “Where are your followers to begin with? I have not encountered any since entering this forest.”

“That is because they are all here.”

You wave your hand and the mist disperses.

The Khaenri’ahn stops in his tracks. “This is…”

The pasithea flowers have overtaken the cemetery. You walk past the gravestones towards a pair of half-broken statues.

“I suppose you’d like an explanation. Do you know about the Archon War?”

A short pause. “I have heard stories.”

Good, you don’t need to explain that far into history.

The pasithea flowers are concentrated around the shorter statue. Deep blue flowers sprout from the cracks, concealing her face.

“This isn’t my original territory,” you explain. “Before, I shared a vast area of land with three other gods. We retreated to this forest with our followers during the war.”

The Khaenri’ahn walks over to the other statue. “They survived as well?”

His face is discolored. A damaged Claymore rests in his hands, never to be used again.

You cover the statue’s eyes with mist. “Yes, but they’re currently dead.”

Silence. Picking up a broom, you sweep the leaves around the statues.

“At first, we defended our territory,” you continue. “That was the option I voted for, but we fled after Vesta was slain. A few centuries later, Pasithea succumbed to erosion. Wait, do I need to explain what erosion is?”

He shakes his head. “I can discern the meaning of the term. You may continue.”

“Okay then. In Pasithea’s case…she went mad and it affected our people. So one of her followers decided to end her misery.”

You sidestep a patch of pasithea flowers. If you try hard enough, you can still recall the lyrics to her lullabies.

“By the time I sensed them, it was too late…her death plagued everyone in the forest with insanity, and only a few survived. And before that, I learned that my friend Havria—she established her own new territory in Liyue—was also slain by her people.”

The Khaenri’ahn remains silent. You move on to a row of gravestones engraved with curlicues.

“Over time, my followers died out. The last ones lost faith in me and left; many switched to my last friend Oizys. I don’t blame them. His fortune, Vesta’s warmth, Pasithea’s dreams…what I gave them was incomparable. All my mist did was hide them from the world.”

“And what happened to Oizys?” he asks tensely.

You hesitate. “He died at the start of the war between Celestia and Khaenri’ah. He was on the gods’ side. A few weeks after he left, I discovered his body near the forest. I…I guess he used the last of his strength to come home.”

Tears prick the corners of your vision. You straighten your veil and walk over to Oizys’s grave, noting the Khaenri’ahn’s wary expression.

“And you do not resent my people for slaying your friend?” he asks.

You shake your head. “I’d rather not cause any more deaths. And I should be asking you the same question, really.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Until now, no grass has grown over his grave. Maybe you should try planting berries.

“I took a neutral stance during the Cataclysm,” you explain, “and that angered Oizys; he always called me too kind for my own good. But if I was truly kind, shouldn’t I have stopped him from joining the war? Shouldn’t I have cared more about his future victims?”

How long will it take for his body to decompose? Is his soul at peace?

“Maybe he would still be alive. Maybe your nation would have more survivors.”

The silence is heavy. You turn to the Khaenri’ahn, noting his solemn expression.

What did it feel like to lose all of his loved ones at once? Is it even possible for him to mourn their deaths?

Finally, he looks up to face you. There is no anger in his gaze, only sympathy.

“I did not advocate for the war, either,” he says, “but I was only a mage in the royal court. For that reason, the previous ruler heeded the sages’ words over my own.”

“I see.” You put down the broom and turn away from the statues. “Let’s go. It will take half a day to clean this place, and you need more rest.”

He follows you. “If you insist.”

The two of you leave the cemetery. The area is once again shrouded in mist.

The Khaenri’ahn meets your gaze. “I am sorry for your loss, ______.”

“I must say the same to you.”

He’s had less trouble walking lately. Soon enough, he will be able to leave the forest.

You walk ahead. “Once you have fully recovered, I expect you to leave. If you don’t have a clear destination in mind, I can guide you to Oizys’s city or draw a map of Teyvat for you.”

He responds quickly this time. “Of course, I would not want to overstay my welcome.”

“Oh, it’s not that.” You turn around to face him, a sad smile on your face. “It’s for your own good, dear. There is no future for you here.”

*✧･ﾟ

After your visit to the cemetery, the Khaenri’ahn begins helping around the forest. You initially disapprove of it but he is insistent on “repaying your kindness.”

He doesn’t divulge any more personal information apart from the fact that he lived with an outlander for some time. You ask him general questions about Khaenri’ah’s culture instead; in turn, he inquires about your glory days.

“Are your old temples still standing?” he asks.

You focus on the chessboard. “The last time I checked, all of them succumbed to the elements. My friends’ temples are more intact; some of my statues are kept there.”

The Khaenri’ahn moves a black pawn. “And they remain in their place, unbothered?”

You make your next move. “More or less. I’ve run into a few adventurers, and they make the wildest assumptions about my images. They would be quite disappointed if they knew what the real thing is like.”

He looks around the temple. Your religious art had been destroyed years ago.

“I can only imagine what it is like to encounter the remnants of your previous existence. It must conjure painful memories.”

You change the topic. “Have you planned your next destination?”

“I am still undecided.”

“Maybe this question will help: What will you do now?”

The Khaenri’ahn doesn’t need bandages anymore. After months of his silent company, his departure will leave a new gap in your daily routine.

“You could start over in another nation. I’d suggest the city of Miseria as a new home; it is still thriving after Oizys’s death.”

He picks up another chess piece, planning his next move.

You continue speaking. “Or you could search for fellow survivors, maybe even preserve what is left of Khaenri’ah. Your life does not end with your nation. After some time…you will eventually move on from the calamity.”

The chess piece cracks in his hand.

You look up immediately. The Khaenri’ahn glares at you.

“Move on?” he asks angrily. “After the destruction I have witnessed, acceptance would be the most humiliating form of defeat.”

The diamonds in his eyes flash. This is your first time seeing him in such a furious state.

You glance at his clenched fist. You will need to replace the black king.

“In that case,” you reply carefully, “is vengeance a preferable option for you? It is one thing to live with resentment but taking action is a different matter.”

He returns the king to its original square and moves his queen instead. “At the moment, I have no concrete plan. But so long as I can remember the flames of Celestia’s cruelty, I would like to see them extinguished.”

“...Then so be it.”

You analyze the chessboard. The Khaenri’ahn turned out to be a formidable opponent. With how he constantly surprises you, you have no doubt that he will do well.

You are absolutely cornered. He topples your white king, a triumphant gleam in his eyes.

“Checkmate.”

iii. damnatio memoriae

The remaining weeks are dreamlike. You enjoy more meals, conversations, and chess games with your temporary companion. He has more energy these days, perhaps motivated by your earlier conversation. He even smiles on a few occasions.

It only makes his departure more difficult.

“Do you have everything you need?”

The Khaenri’ahn doesn’t stop to check his bag. “You have already given me more than enough for my travels.”

“Are you sure? Do you need more food? Another blanket?”

“I can take care of myself henceforth.”

How can he be so sure?

The mist swirls around you. You guide him to the edge of the forest.

“Then I guess this is where we say goodbye.”

The Khaenri’ahn steps out of the mist. He looks nothing like the pitiful creature you first met. No traces of sickness or injury. Mended clothes—he even allowed you to embroider stars and diamonds over the holes. A bright, determined gaze directed at you.

“Thank you for everything,” he tells you. “Had you not saved me, I would have lost hope ages ago.”

You smile, shaking your head. “That was nothing, dear. Thank you for your company.”

What will he do now? Will he really seek vengeance against Celestia?

He glances at the expanding mist. “Will you remain in your territory?”

“Of course, someone needs to take care of the cemetery. Oh, and…” Your voice trails off, a pause where his unknown name should be. “I have one last thing to say to you.”

He resumes eye contact. “Yes?”

He will be fine. It would be selfish to keep him here.

The mist recedes. You lift your veil, smiling.

“Your feelings are valid. If resentment is what drives you to continue living, then let it be. What matters is that you are still alive.”

So long as he doesn't give up.

The Khaenri’ahn doesn’t say anything at first. He stares at your face, likely taking in the details usually hidden by your veil. Why, though? He has seen it plenty of times during your meals together.

You clasp your hands around his. “Take care. May you find your new purpose in life.”

That draws him out of his stupor. He nods, standing up straighter.

“Your kindness will not be forgotten, ______.”

With that, he turns around and walks in the direction of Miseria. You remain in your spot, watching his figure shrink then disappear over the horizon. Not once does he turn around.

Back to your old routine.

The temple is too quiet. The dishes are still in the sink, speckled with crumbs of berry pie. The guilt finally sets in as you pick up the Khaenri’ahn’s—no, Oizys’s plate and clean it.

You put your tableware in the dish rack. Oizys’s is transferred to the cupboard, placed beside the three long-discarded sets.

*✧･

Time passes so slowly these days.

Even before the Khaenri’ahn’s arrival, you began oversleeping without Oizys’s wakeup calls. But with the former gone, you have less reasons to leave your bed.

You still sleep on the right side. You fill the left side with pillows to make the bed feel less empty, but there is no replacement for Oizys’s late-night ramblings. After a few more washes, his scent leaves the mattress.

On Vesta’s birthday, you leave the forest and return to your old territory. Their temple is still standing, but the fire has been extinguished.

At first, you think the empty hearth is a hallucination. You can still vividly recall the moment Vesta’s mangled body burst into fire. Even in death, their soul sought to provide warmth for their followers through everlasting flames.

Even in death, they provided more than what you could ever give.

The statues haven’t fared any better. Your friends’ icons have all crumbled into shards and dust. You don’t care to look for your own scattered fragments.

You visit Sal Terrae next. After greeting Havria’s remains, you run into Morax and exchange a few words with him. You leave immediately afterwards—he is busy overseeing Liyue’s recovery from the Cataclysm, and his nation only reminds you of your once-thriving territories.

That visit is what convinces you to rest. Back home, you clean the entire cemetery; the task takes an entire day without Oizys’s help. You go to bed and only wake up months later for your religious festival.

The forest is the same. Oizys’s grave remains barren.

You greet your followers’ graves. The temple is cleaned and decorated with your old tapestries. As you pick a bouquet of achlys flowers for yourself, the Khaenri’ahn comes to mind.

Is he doing well?

What a stupid question. The fact that he hasn’t returned is a good answer.

You bake a small cake this time, just enough for one person and topped with a ring of candles.

The fire is much dimmer than Vesta’s. What else is different? Your followers would return your greetings. Havria would visit to join the celebration. Pasithea would sing your hymns. Oizys would gift you another blessing of happiness.

You blow out the candles. Smoke curls into the air and mixes with the mist.

“Happy birthday, █████.”

*✧･

You sleep for longer intervals, dedicating a few wakeful days to your friends’ birthdays and the cemetery’s maintenance. The Khaenri’ahn doesn’t return.

Years after his departure, another human wanders into the forest. Her presence awakens you early, and you bring her to your temple upon sensing her wounded state.

Her injuries are severe, and you get blood all over your robes while stitching her wounds. After a brief introduction, she explains her situation.

“Your coworkers did this to you?”

“Yes,” says Alyona. “I tried to leave our organization and was branded a traitor.”

You look at the broken mask in her hands. “Where are you from, dear?”

Her eyes are glossy with tears. “Snezhnaya. Have you heard of the Fatui, miss?”

“I haven’t.”

“That makes sense; it is the new political department of my nation. They aspire to fulfill our Archon’s vision of a perfect world, but the things I’ve seen…”

She stares at her bandaged legs. You pat her back.

“It’s all right. You’re safe now.”

Her expression turns fearful. “No, even if I—the director of the Fatui personally recruited me! He knows who I am. Once he hears about this, he won’t let me escape so easily!”

Poor thing. “And who is he, may I ask?”

She visibly shudders. “I know nothing about him but he called himself Pierro, the Jester. His gaze is terrifying; I’ll see those diamond pupils in my nightmares.”

You stare at her. “His pupils were diamond-shaped?”

“Diamonds,” she confirms. “He doesn’t look like a native of Snezhnaya, but that doesn’t matter. He is devoted to the Tsaritsa; he said it himself.”

She continues describing him. Strong build, pale blue irises, silver hair with a dark streak in it, a refined way of speaking.

“Where is she?!”

You startle. Someone—no, two people have entered the forest. One of them mentions Alyona.

“Miss?” She tugs on the hem of your veil. “I should leave. I can’t put you in danger.”

“The same can be said for you, little one.”

Outside the temple, the mist thickens. You sense the reactions of Alyona’s pursuers.

“Katya? Where did you go?!”

“How did I end up back here?”

There, she should be safe now. You smile at Alyona.

“Don’t worry about me; I’ll keep you safe until you recover. Afterwards, you can take refuge in the nearby city. The locals are kind.”

“Thank you so much, Miss ______!” She wipes her tears and looks around the temple. “Who is this temple dedicated to, anyway?”

“A nameless god,” you reply nonchalantly. “She died a long time ago.”

“That’s too bad. She must’ve been a splendid being if her priestess is this kind.”

“Not really. The world has no more use for her.”

iv. oderint dum metuant

In the years following Alyona’s departure, more Fatui defectors wander into your territory.

You help all of them. In your human guise, you treat their wounds and guide them to Miseria. Their pursuers give up after spending hours lost in your mist.

A few have stories about their leader, be it hearsay or personal anecdotes. Their narratives only provide more evidence that he could be the Khaenri’ahn you saved years ago.

Pierro, the Jester.

So it seems that the Cryo Archon took him in. He must be doing extremely well if he now holds authority over Snezhnaya. Could the Fatui’s objective align with his grudge against Celestia? Is that why he swore loyalty to the Tsaritsa?

You don’t visit Snezhnaya for confirmation. If Pierro is truly your old companion, nothing good will come out of your reunion. You are better off as a memory.

*✧･ﾟ

You sleep for an entire year this time.

Your solo celebrations have become unbearable and none of your friends will call you out for skipping their birthdays.

You do wake up for Oizys’s death anniversary. His grave remains a barren bed in the cemetery; not even your achlys flowers could flourish. The eyes of his statue have cracked, so you cover them with thicker clouds of mist.

Hunger eludes you. After greeting Oizys, you go to the kitchen and keep your tableware in the cupboard. It will only erode if you leave it in the dish rack for another year. Or what about two? Ten? A century, even?

No one will wake you up, anyway.

“______?”

You almost drop your plate. Is that an ex-Fatui acquaintance? You already forbade their visits. Before you can reinforce the mist, the person speaks again.

“█████.”

The plate shatters into pieces. You run out of the temple.

They know your real name.

The voice is familiar. And their location…

The edge of the forest has less achlys flowers these days. Someone is standing under a dead tree. Before you can call out to them, they turn in your direction and make eye contact.

Four-pointed stars.

He is the first to speak. “______, you haven’t changed at all.”

Before you know it, you are running towards him. “It’s you!”

The Khaenri’ahn gives you one of his rare smiles. “It appears that you remember me.”

“How could I not?” You stand in front of him, taking in his appearance. “Wow, I almost didn’t recognize you.”

He looks so different. Neat hairstyle, elegant Snezhnayan clothing, a black mask over the right half of his face. Has his posture improved? His demeanor is dignified, imposing even.

You unconsciously fix your robes. “It’s been so long. What happened to you?”

“I have found a new home in Snezhnaya,” he explains, “and devoted myself to Her Majesty the Tsaritsa. I believe you already know of the Fatui.”

“I’ve heard rumors,” you reply carefully. “You are the first Harbinger, correct?”

His expression turns serious. “You are not mistaken. Along with the title of Jester, I took on a new name. You may address me as Pierro.”

Was his gaze always so intense? It feels as though he is sizing you up.

You look away. “Then I can finally put a name to your face. If I may ask, why the Tsaritsa? I don’t know her personally, but the last thing I expected was for you to pledge loyalty to an Archon.”

“Neither did I,” says Pierro. His voice takes a reverent tone. “Her Majesty understands my pain. Through the Fatui, we will rebel against Celestia and create a new world.”

Your mind flits to Alyona and her successors. How many people will be sacrificed for such a lofty goal? And why do you feel so conflicted? Isn’t this what he wanted?

“I see. Your plan sounds outrageous but it must be promising if you are the one in charge,” you reply, smiling. “You’ve come so far. You should be proud of yourself.”

There is a faint glimmer in his eyes. “Your recognition is paramount.”

A heavy silence hangs in the air. What else can you say to him? Should you invite him to your temple? Why is he taking time out of his schedule to visit you anyway?

Pierro looks around the forest. “Have you been doing well?”

“More or less. Never mind me, I’d like to hear more about your new life.” You lean against the dead tree, twirling the hem of your veil. “So, a rebellion against the divine. How does one go about doing that?”

He takes a step closer to you. “Naturally, it will take years of preparation. In the present, I can see to it that our smaller objectives are accomplished.”

“All right, so what will you do now?”

“I shall overthrow the gods of the Old World, starting with you.”

Pierro slams his hand against the tree, cornering you. His other hand seizes your arm, holding it tightly enough to crush the bones.

“Pierro!” You bite back a cry of pain. “I—what are you doing?!”

Any and all traces of familiarity have left his face.

“█████, you have officially been recognized as a threat to the Fatui,” he declares. “Had you taken a neutral stance, we could have sought diplomatic relations. The assistance you have provided for the Tsaritsa’s traitors, however, cannot be overlooked.”

Of course he knows about Alyona and the others.

The mist swirls around you. Just before you can create a diversion, Pierro strengthens his grip on your arm. An unspoken warning.

You can’t keep the fear out of your voice. “I…what will you do with me?”

Overthrow the gods…will he kill you? But wait, your death could end up like Havria’s or Pasithea’s! You should warn him—

“Nevertheless, your punishment has been reduced by the mercy of Her Majesty.”

Don’t relax yet. He is still holding you. “What do you mean by that?”

Pierro puts his hand under your chin, tilting your face upwards. “What you are, truly, is an archaic god who poses little threat to the Fatui. I inferred as much from my time spent with you. For that reason, I personally pleaded your case.”

You can’t look him in the eye. “Then what exactly is my punishment?”

“I promised the Tsaritsa that I would oversee your subjugation by my side.”

“…Excuse me?”

The look on his face is completely serious. “I came here to bring you to Snezhnaya.”

Your arm shakes within his grasp. “And if I refuse?”

Pierro’s gaze pierces through your veil. “I advise you to be tactful in your decision, lest the city of Miseria be implicated.”

The mist rises.

“What do you mean?! Oizys’s people have nothing to do with this!”

He raises an eyebrow. “Are they wholly innocent? They have accepted numerous Fatui defectors regardless of their circumstances. We have yet to deliver retribution to the traitors.”

“No!” You shake your head, tears filling your eyes. “Please don’t—I’ll do anything!”

Your knees hit the ground. You bow your head, allowing the mist to disperse.

“I’ll listen to you! Just don’t hurt them, I beg of you!”

This whole time, you have endangered Oizys’s followers.

Pierro’s voice cuts through the fog clouding your thoughts.

“You astound me, ______. Your compassion knows no bounds, even for those who do not worship you. I now understand why your friend had deemed you soft-hearted.”

You remain in your servile position, staring at the ground. Pierro’s hand returns to your face, gripping it roughly under your veil. His thumb strokes your cheek and catches a stray tear.

How pathetic you must look in his eyes.

It is his next words, spoken in a soft tone, which make you shudder.

“That means you are a worthy soul for the New World.”

*✧･ﾟ

You give up your territory shortly thereafter.

Pierro doesn’t let you return to your temple for any belongings. He simply guides you to the waiting carriage, keeping his hand on your back. The only thing more humiliating than your earlier display of submission are the chains cuffed to your wrists.

You take down the mist before you leave. Without its veil, the forest looks small and unremarkable. Whatever the Fatui does with it, you hope the cemetery will be preserved.

The trip to Snezhnaya is quiet. You say nothing to Pierro when he gives you a coat for the cold climate, neither when he escorts you to Zapolyarny Palace, not even during your introduction to the Tsaritsa.

You understand why he would serve her. The Cryo Archon is a sacrosanct figure and her mere presence makes you shiver. While she regards you with a cold gaze and some curious words, she clearly doesn’t perceive you as an equal.

Neither do you miss Pierro’s reverent attitude towards her. When the Tsaritsa demands your utmost loyalty, it is his gaze which scares you into bowing before her.

Never mind your pride, you are dealing with the god who made his goal possible.

After the tense meeting, you return to the carriage. Snezhnaya is a far cry from your old territory, but the people seem capable of enduring the harsh environment. They have no trouble finding their way in the snow.

Your final destination is Pierro’s estate. You give him a confused look when he identifies the grand manor, but he leads you inside.

The foyer is lined with masked servants. They silently greet Pierro; some curiously glance in your direction. Before anyone can ask, Pierro’s hand moves to your shoulder.

“This is ______,” he announces. “Henceforth, she is the lady of the estate.”

What?

The gasps that echo across the foyer aren’t yours. You can only stare at Pierro, your chains clinking with how quickly you turned to face him.

The serious look on his face is what silences everyone.

Pierro continues speaking but your mind is too foggy to process his words. His hand is still on your shoulder, a visible confirmation of his earlier statement. The unanimous “Yes, Lord Harbinger!” is what draws you back into reality.

The servants disperse. Only two women remain.

Pierro lets go of your shoulder. “I expect Lady ______ to be ready by dinnertime.”

They bow. “Yes, Lord Harbinger!”

He lightly pushes you in their direction. You hesitantly follow them, feeling his gaze on your back until you disappear up the stairs. The handmaidens lead you to a lavish bedroom.

Your own chambers. How considerate.

The shorter handmaiden takes out a key and unlocks your chains. They work quickly, cleaning you in the en suite bathroom then dressing you up. The wardrobe is fully stocked with elegant dresses, all in Snezhnayan fashion. The blue diamond jewelry looks familiar.

You don’t protest as they alter an ornate gown and help you into it. Neither do you cast a glance at your old robes discarded on the floor. They let you keep your veil, at least.

*✧･ﾟ

Pierro is already seated at the dining table when you enter.

“Your new attire befits you,” is all he says.

The handmaidens close the door behind you. You walk over to the empty chair.

Fancy tableware, gourmet food, a banquet table with more distance between the chairs.

“Thank you,” you reply bitterly, sitting down. “Is that all you have to say? Because I have so many questions for you.”

His gaze is still trained on you. “You may speak.”

“All right, where do I start?” You lift your veil, exposing your face. “I didn’t expect this kind of prison. And what did you call me earlier? I’ve had my fair share of admirers, but none were so brazen as to pursue a god.”

Your jewelry twinkles under the bright light. It matches Pierro’s diamond accessories.

His face betrays no emotion. “Make no mistake, your previous act of kindness had no bearing on my decision to save your life. You may find it to your benefit to respect your savior.”

What a charming word. “Of course, I’d hate to be a nuisance.”

You sample your soup. It tastes like borscht.

Pierro just watches you. The tension in the room is thick, so unlike your previous meals together. You aren’t in the mood for any idle conversation.

“Why am I here, Pierro?” You put down your spoon and sit back in your chair. “I can’t imagine why a prisoner of the Fatui should have such luxurious accommodations or a status like the Jester’s…partner.”

“And what were your expectations?” he asks.

“To be kept in a cell. To have my powers utilized for your organization. To be, I don’t know, treated like a pawn.”

His gaze remains unfathomable. “Was I not clear with my intentions? You are meant for the New World, so I intend to keep you safe until our objective is achieved.”

“And it just so happens that only you can fulfill the role of my warden.” You rest your head on your palm, eyes wide. “You have truly surprised me.”

What use could the New World possibly have for you?

Another uncomfortable silence. Both servings of soup are left untouched.

It is Pierro who speaks again.

“You will not be without basic needs, so long as you listen to me. Regarding your current lodgings, I will confess that it is a reciprocation of your kindness. But that is all there is to it—never forget that you would be dead if not for me.”

The diamonds in his eyes shine bright with resolution.

“Rest assured, the Fatui will not make a pawn out of you,” he continues. “From this day forth, you are liberated from your divine burden.”

You belatedly realize just how far you have fallen. Stripped of your divine attire, trapped in a foreign nation, left to the mercy of a powerful human.

Likewise, any act of defiance would only make the Tsaritsa doubt her trust in him.

“I see. Thank you, I think I have a clearer idea of my situation.”

Your appetite is nonexistent, but you force yourself to eat. The sound of metal scraping against porcelain comes only from your side of the table.

“Is the food to your satisfaction?”

You stare at your bowl. “The borscht is too sweet.”

“I will tell the chef to rectify their mistake.” After a short pause, Pierro adds, “Are you still fond of cooking?”

“Not really. I lost my passion for it a long time ago.”

“That is a shame,” he says. “You were quite adept with the knife.”

v. nitimur in vetitum semper, cupimusque negata

Pierro wasn’t lying about the reality of your prison. It takes a while to adjust to your new routine, however.

Each morning, your handmaidens wake you up early for breakfast. Your meals with Pierro remain tense; he initiates most of the conversations.

After breakfast, he leaves for Zapolyarny Palace while you remain in the manor. You have no one to interact with, given the servants’ fearful dispositions, but he is gracious enough to give you a new pastime.

“You expect me to study?”

Your desk is stacked high with books. Judging by the titles, most of them pertain to the history and culture of Snezhnaya.

Pierro takes another book off the shelf. “Did you expect a life of nothing but luxury? You have lived an idle life for the previous centuries, ______, but your archaic knowledge will prove irrelevant for the New World.”

And to think you had originally been in awe of his private library. You slump in your chair, frowning at the written worksheets.

“You are absolutely cruel.”

He gives you a stern look. “Do not think you can feign studying. Your handmaidens will supervise you to ensure your proper education.”

You glance at the two women standing by the door. What must be going through their heads right now? Did their job description prepare them for sights like this?

“And do you expect me to study all day?” you ask.

“Once you finish your studies, you may do whatever you like so long as you do not leave the estate. You need only read the introductions today.”

Honestly, he should’ve just left you to rot in a prison cell.

Pierro’s hand rests on your shoulder. “Your mental enrichment will be instrumental to your adjustment.”

He leaves the library.

Shaking your head, you open the first book. The history of Snezhnayan technology turns out to be an interesting topic, and you quickly move on to the corresponding worksheet. Aside from an enumeration quiz, there is a section for subjective questions. You mull over your answers and explain your stance.

An opportunity for psychoanalysis, perhaps. At least the political propaganda is tolerable.

Most of your free time is dedicated to naps. The manor is too warm for the natural formation of ordinary mist, while the outdoor mist is quick to freeze. The only personalized item in your bedchambers is an embroidery kit.

So he remembered another hobby of yours.

You think of Pierro’s finely-tailored suits. The style is a world away from his old Khaenri’ahn attire. Has he disposed of his old garments?

Pierro usually returns from work in time for dinner. After another tense meal, he retires to his private office. Unless he invites you over for conversation or chess games, you return to the solitude of your bedchambers.

You sleep in the middle of the bed.

*✧･ﾟ

After a few months, Pierro allows you to leave the manor for the first time.

Zapolyarny Palace is as chilly as you remember. You don’t know why he brought you with him to begin with—he just banishes you to the sofa with your books and embroidery.

…He looks hard at work. Every time you peek at him, he is writing reports at his desk or speaking with a subordinate.

Thankfully, you don’t have to greet the Tsaritsa. You do pass by the Doctor’s laboratory on the way out, only to be startled by a chorus of crazed screams and hypnotic singing.

You stop in your tracks but Pierro quickly leads you away from Dottore’s wing.

Your next destination is a town square. The visit is more of a formal tour than a leisurely stroll, and the bustling activity ceases upon Pierro’s arrival. Still, you obediently walk by his side.

“Is that the Jester?!”

“Who is his companion?”

“Their veil suits the Fatui’s masks, doesn’t it?”

“Her expression looks quite solemn.”

He doesn’t pay the whispers any attention, so you do the same. The Snezhnayan crowd isn’t here for you.

A few people catch your eye. You pause and wave at them, offering a friendly smile.

Pierro’s hand presses down on your back.

The smile leaves your face. You don’t need to turn around to know that he is glaring at you—or is it the people you’d waved at? They look frozen with fear.

“Sorry,” you mutter, looking ahead.

The both of you continue walking.

*✧･ﾟ

Pierro leaves for a mission in Mondstadt. You remain in the estate.

Without him, the days are monotonous but easygoing. You eat your meals in peace and accomplish your studies. In your second week, you make an unlikely friend.

“My lady?”

You look up from your embroidery hoop. “Yes?”

The shorter handmaiden points at the half-finished design. “What flower is this?”

Where is her coworker? This is the first time a servant has approached you on their own volition.

“Pasithea,” you reply, tracing the blue and violet threads. “It’s…a special flower which grows in only two areas of Teyvat.”

“It must be beautiful.” She glances at your finished pieces. “Your needlework is exquisite, my lady. Are you preferential to any designs?”

“Not really. Would you like to suggest one?”

She smiles. “What about a snowflake?”

Her change in disposition is welcoming. She almost reminds you of your last priestess Charis. She was always quick to suggest designs for her new robes.

“What is your name, dear?”

“Eva,” she replies brightly, “and my coworker is named Anya. Please excuse her absence today; she caught a cold.”

“Send her my regards.” You smile, straightening your veil. “And thank you for your earlier compliment. It’s been a while since someone has praised my craft.”

She tilts her head. “You are quite nice, my lady. No offense but given your introduction, none of us know what to think of you.”

“None taken,” you laugh. “Honestly, I was just as surprised as all of you.”

How long until Pierro returns? Didn’t he say two months at minimum?

“I’m suddenly craving Brightcrown tea. Could you please prepare some for me?”

“Oh, sure!” Eva walks over to the door. “I’ll be right back, my lady.”

You might as well take advantage of this opportunity.

The needle pricks your thumb. You wave your hand, allowing the blood to evaporate into mist. It swirls around the room and dissipates into the air.

One room down. It would be more effective if you use your thurible, but you shouldn’t doubt the staff’s perceptiveness. You’ll have to settle for just a little blood and dominion.

If only this territory was meant for their safety, not yours.

“My lady? Your tea will be brought here shortly.”

Eva is back. You hide your thumb, squeezing the wound to extract more mist.

“Thank you, dear. May I have a tour of the estate later?”

vi. amor et melle et felle est fecundissimus 

The remainder of Pierro’s mission is enjoyable. Eva and Anya are wonderful companions, and they introduce you to a few other servants. You chat with them often.

Your mist only claims part of the estate. Several rooms are locked with no gaps under the doors, including Pierro’s personal quarters. You do manage to sneak a few drops of blood through the keyhole of his private office.

The information gained is useless. You can only hear fragments of the servants’ chatter, mainly gossip about you or praise for your captor. They keep talking about the many benefits the Fatui provided for their hometowns, from new technology to public hearths.

At least he has made their lives easier.

You do hear about Pierro’s return ahead of time. The servants are agitated but not so much as you. You remind Eva and Anya to keep your camaraderie a secret.

He finds out, anyway.

“Your handmaidens have been terminated from their position.”

“What?”

You look up immediately. Pierro remains focused on the chessboard.

“I also dismissed two other servants,” he says, moving a pawn. “Starting tomorrow, their replacements will attend to your needs.”

“But why?”

His gaze is sharp. “I was informed that they had overstepped their boundaries. It is unprofessional for a servant to be overly friendly with the lady of the estate, much less request embroidery pieces and assistance in the kitchen.”

“That—I insisted on it!” Your hands shake, chess game forgotten.

Eva, Anya, those young cooks. All jobless because of you.

Your vision turns blurry. “Could you at least transfer them to another building or give them letters of recommendation?”

He sighs. “You are too kind for your own good, ______. What would you have done if those servants sought to take advantage of you?”

“They’re good people,” you insist, blinking back tears.

“Perhaps you are right. To which their own righteousness could have been manipulated for your personal gain.”

You glare at him. “I don’t plan to escape if that’s what you are thinking. I have nowhere to go and Miseria would be in danger.”

“Even so.” Pierro glances at your clenched fists. “Remember where your loyalties lie.”

You glance at your thumb. The wound has long healed, and your mist is currently down. You’d take this opportunity to claim Pierro’s office but he would surely notice.

“So what do you expect me to say? I understand? I’m sorry? Thank you for looking out for my safety?”

He remains unfazed by your anger. “Whatever you’d like to say. Your countenance already reveals much of your sentiments.”

“Well then.” You stand up, adjusting your veil. “What would you like to hear from me?”

There is a new medal on the wall, another personal accomplishment on display.

“Shall I sing you praises?” you ask, bowing. “Show my utmost gratitude?”

Pierro just watches you, a judgemental look on his face.

How did your last followers act in their throes of madness? It was sickening to witness.

You kneel on the floor, hands clasped together. “O, Lord Pierro, I humbly thank you for saving an undeserving creature such as myself! Had it not been for your benevolence, I would have been doomed to a life of sorrow. Your greatness is unparalleled. You have brought glory to Snezhnaya. The Tsaritsa—”

“That is enough.”

The anger in his tone is undeniable. You almost flinch from his glare.

“Cease these foolish theatrics at once,” he snarls. “It would do you well to remember that Her Majesty’s name shall not be disrespected.”

“My apologies.” Despite the shiver running down your spine, you bat your eyelashes innocently. “Shall I exclude her name and continue?”

His eyes flash. “Even a court jester has more wit about them. Sit back down.”

“Gladly.” You return to your chair, wiping the dust off your skirt. A smug smile crosses your face as you analyze the chessboard.

Your king is in a tight spot. Pierro meets your gaze, challenging you.

“Draw?” he asks.

You shake your head and make your next move.

*✧･ﾟ

Pierro wins the chess game. Nonetheless, you are quite satisfied with the results.

Your new handmaidens are more formal with you. For their sake, you avoid any sort of unnecessary interaction with them. The estate is rife with gossip following the dismissal of the old servants, and you disperse the mist. You don’t want to think about them.

With no one to appreciate your embroidery, you take to roaming the estate in your free time. The manor is extravagant for two residents and most of the rooms are vacant. During one stroll, you find a half-open door near Pierro’s bedchambers.

Isn’t this room usually locked?

“My lady, where are you going? We’re forbidden—”

You smile at your handmaiden. “Did the Jester permit you to restrain me, Esfir? If he finds out about this, I’ll gladly vouch for your innocence.”

She turns to her coworker, exasperated. “Karine, call Alec. That careless idiot…”

You go inside.

The room is dark. Opening the curtains, you find what looks like several furniture pieces covered in sheets. The locked bookcase holds ancient books and scrolls.

You uncover one item and promptly lock the door.

“My lady!” Esfir bangs on the door. “What are you doing?”

You return to the unveiled statue, hands trembling. The figure’s translucent veil and swaying thurible are flawlessly sculpted. The marble is cracked but polished to perfection.

Isn’t this your statue from Vesta’s temple?

You uncover the other items. To your horror, all of them comprise your old religious art. Broken statues, deteriorated paintings, ceremonial relics. So many images of you.

Calm down, it could be worse. The items are hidden in this room, not displayed for worship. Pierro probably stole these to erase your remaining influence. But why didn’t he just destroy them? Why is the artwork well-preserved? Why are there so many?

You can’t stand looking at those faces. They are too serene, too divine, too deceptive.

You cover the items and leave the room. Esfir and Karine surround you, along with a terrified-looking servant.

“My lady, did you—!”

You close the door behind you. “Alec, dear? Do you normally clean these items?”

He tenses. “I only dust the covers and the room. Lord Pierro forbade me from unveiling the items, lest I be…laid off like my predecessor.”

“I see.” You smile at him through your veil. “Lock the door properly next time, okay? If you aren’t careful, these items could be destroyed beyond repair one day.”

Pierro makes no mention of his secret collection later that evening, but you notice more locks installed on the doors. Despite your best efforts, Alec is fired.

*✧･ﾟ

Oizys’s birthday rolls around.

You sit by the window overlooking the garden. The estate grounds are a paradise of white snow and Snezhnayan flora. There are no berry bushes in sight.

At this hour, his festival in Miseria must’ve begun. You should be preparing for his private party right now. He always came home early for your berry shortcake.

The curtain is pulled over the window.

“How long do you plan to stare outside?”

Great, he’s here.

“Good morning.” You make no move to leave the armchair. “Why are you here?”

The door to your bedchambers is open. Esfir and Karine are gone.

Pierro rests his hand on the back of the chair. “Breakfast should have begun ages ago. Your handmaidens claim that you refuse to cooperate.”

They must be terrified right now. “I’m sorry, they tried their best. I’ll go now.”

“Are you thinking of the Child of Night?”

“...How do you know?”

He evades your question. “Your sorrow has not diminished in the slightest. Grieving his loss will not bring your friend back to life.”

You grip the armrest. “Do you think I don’t know that?”

“I can imagine what other thoughts are plaguing your mind,” he replies. He turns to face you, gaze somber. “However you may spin his tale, what remains certain is that you were faultless in his death.”

He’s wrong. “I know.”

Your doubt must be obvious because Pierro wraps his hand around your arm.

“What killed the Child of Night was his own foolishness,” he insists. “You may call yourself weak, unkind, cowardly even, but it was your conviction that spared you from his fate.”

Is he trying to make you feel better or worse?

“Will you please stop it?” you whisper. “I don’t want your pity right now.”

His grip on your arm tightens. “You misjudge my sentiments.”

“Really now?” You raise your head, glaring at him. “Because you have been doing a fine job at courting me, assuming that I have not misinterpreted my new title.”

Someone like you has no place by his side.

“It would be easier if you just hated me,” you mutter, blinking back tears. “At least then I would have a proper punishment.”

An audible sigh. “Such cynicism is rather unbecoming of your kindness.”

He lifts your veil.

Your eyes widen. “What are you—”

“Silence.”

The air feels cold against your face. The hand on your arm moves to your chin, tilting your face upwards. Pierro leans closer and you can only stare back at him, frozen in place.

Nothing about his gaze is condescending.

His lips press against yours.

Your breath hitches in your throat. Mist rises from the corners of the room and you hastily disperse it. Before you can fully process the soft sensation, he pulls away.

“Y-You…” The words won’t leave your mouth. “How dare…!”

“Are my intentions clearer?” Pierro gently brushes his thumb against your cheek, wiping away your tears.

You can’t answer. Your heart is racing and it takes everything to hide the mist from him. You squeeze your eyes shut, gripping the armrest with all of your strength.

Just as abruptly as he kissed you, Pierro lets go of you and lowers your veil.

“I must leave for work,” he says. His voice resumes its authoritative tone. “I will tell the chef to cook a warm breakfast for you later.”

With that, he leaves the room. The door closes behind him.

How dare he.

Mist swirls around the bedchambers. You wipe your mouth and cover your face, bunching up your veil in your hands. The warmth in your cheeks is internal.

…Despite your mortification, the fluttery feeling in your chest is not unwelcome.

vii. dulce est desipere in loco

Pierro doesn’t acknowledge his kiss later that evening.

In the subsequent days, he works longer hours. The two of you eat separate meals. Your conversations and chess games are halted. The servants’ gossip provides no insight into his change in behavior.

What is he up to?

You answer another worksheet, taking note of the date written on the top corner. Has it been this long since your capture? Since moving to Snezhnaya, the days have felt longer.

“______.”

“Oh, why are you here?”

This is the first time he has visited you during your study sessions. Judging by the clock, he must have finished work early.

Pierro picks up one of your finished worksheets. “What an interesting opinion.”

You tilt your head. “You think so? I just wrote what was on my mind.”

In all honesty, the subjective portion is quite engaging. Occasionally, the questions are direct responses to your answers from previous tests, as though your tutor—Pierro himself?—is indirectly challenging you.

He turns to Esfir and Karine. “Lady ______ and I will eat an early dinner. You may tidy up the library and retire to the servants’ quarters.”

“Yes, Lord Harbinger!”

You hesitantly stand up. “What is the occasion?”

He places his hand on the small of your back. “Why don’t you find out?”

The hallway is quiet. You match Pierro’s pace, casting a few glances at him. He stares ahead with a neutral expression, intentions hidden. What is so important about this dinner that he must personally escort you?

He opens the double doors.

Achlys flowers.

Every vase in the room is filled with white flower spikes and large trifoliate leaves. Tapestries hang from the walls, restored to their vibrant colors.

“I…” You clap a hand over your mouth. “What is…?”

Pierro silently takes hold of your wrist and leads you inside.

Your chairs are positioned side-by-side this time. The table is set with familiar food—your favorites, all cooked and presented in your usual style. A large bouquet of achlys flowers rests on one placemat.

You lift your veil. “My eyes aren’t deceiving me, right? How did you find out?”

He pulls out the chair for you. “Why not take your place at the banquet?”

Words fail you. You sit down and pick up the bouquet. The achlys flowers are perfectly fresh, tied with ribbons in your religious color.

In the center of the table is a large cake topped with glowing candles.

“It pleases me to see that my research was fruitful.” Pierro takes his seat and faces you, a familiar smile on his face. “Happy birthday, ______.”

That is the last straw. You burst into tears.

You can’t stop crying. Tears roll down your cheeks, drip onto your skirt, soak into Pierro’s suit when he hugs you. He feels warm.

“I suggest that you cease your crying,” he murmurs. “The food will go cold.”

“Quiet,” you sniffle. You wrap your arms around him, pulling him closer. Making sure that this is real. “You can’t just surprise me like this and expect me to react calmly!”

It takes a few more minutes for the tears to stop. You reluctantly let go of Pierro, closing your eyes when his fingertips brush against your damp cheeks.

To think that he of all people would be the one to make you this happy.

The birthday candles are still lit. The flames dance in the air, brighter than any fire you’ve seen before. You blow out the candles and the flames extinguish into thin curls of smoke.

“It’s been so long since I last enjoyed my birthday,” you mutter. You slump in your chair, watching the last traces of smoke disappear. “I almost forgot just how old I am.”

What kind of life have you been living up to now?

Pierro cuts the cake and gives you a slice. The flavor is bittersweet yet familiar. It brings to mind a memory of you chastising him in your kitchen for messing up the same recipe.

You put down your spoon, feeling more tears spring to your eyes. “This is all too much for one person, you know.”

He side-eyes you. “I believe that such splendor is to be expected for a god’s festival.”

“Oh, please.” You shake your head, smiling. “You deserve a grander celebration for your own birthday. If there is one thing you humans have over us gods, it is your ability to accomplish so much within your short lifespans. Compared to you…I never did enough.”

“I care not for such festivities,” he replies, holding your hand, “and I must say that you are gravely mistaken regarding your own personal significance.”

There is something so tender about his words. His other hand cups the side of your face, beckoning you to meet his gaze. Those four-pointed stars seem to peer into your soul, shining brighter than any celestial being in the sky.

“If there is one good thing which came out of your life, it was saving mine.”

Your heart twists in your chest. Try as you might, you can’t look away.

“I…I see.” Your hand shakes within his grasp. You want nothing more than to pull your veil over your face.

He knows just the right words to win people over.

This time, it’s you who prolongs the chaste kiss he gives you. It’s you who intertwines your fingers together. It’s you who whimpers when he pulls away. To your frustration, he remains mostly unfazed but the look in his eyes doesn’t lie.

How long has it been since you last enjoyed physical intimacy? What about him?

Oh well, you could play the fool for one night.

“Well, Pierro, this has been an impressive festival,” you tell him, smirking. “But where is my offering? Did you think a paltry kiss would suffice?”

“Oh?” He holds your gaze, eyes darkened. “According to the ancient records, only the divine friends of the God of Mist were expected to provide gifts. I presumed myself to be an exception to this tradition.”

“You disappoint me. But don’t worry, you can make up for it right now.”

The corners of his mouth tilt upwards. “And what exactly do you desire from me?”

You lay a hand on his chest. The pale blue diamonds of his necktie twinkle under the light, dimmer than his eyes.

“I believe you know exactly what I want,” you reply. Wispy gray marks travel up your limbs and around your eyes. “Are you up for the challenge?”

You aren’t even given a few seconds before Pierro clutches your waist and pulls you into another kiss, stealing your breath. His other hand cups the back of your head and pulls off your veil.

“Very well,” he says. “I might as well oblige you.”

*✧･ﾟ

You are never underestimating humans ever again.

The room is dark. If you close your eyes, you can imagine yourself within a void. The Abyss, maybe. Any lovely dark place where your debauchery could go unacknowledged.

Offering? You were referring to your own birthday gift, right? So why did you end up feeling like one for your captor?

Pierro lightly shakes you. “______, have you fallen asleep?”

“No, I haven’t,” you reply quickly. You turn your head in his direction, chest heaving. “I’m just exhausted.”

The complacent gleam in his eyes is absolutely maddening. Even with his mask off, his face is both familiar and different. The way he looks at you is earnest yet far from reverent.

Is this the same person you saved all those years ago? How can the voice which once weakly cried for help whisper such degrading things in your ear?

You raise your arm to inspect your wrist. Dark bruises mix with the wispy marks, from when he pinned you to the bed. Combined with the warm ache in your abdomen and knees…

You feel utterly desecrated.

Pierro holds you tightly, turning your body to face him. Loose strands of silver hair fall over his face. Familiar scars litter his bare skin, including those you’d healed.

“We missed dinner,” he murmurs. “Would you like to eat something later? It would be a waste of the banquet preparations.”

His gaze makes you shrink. Where in the world is your veil?

You sit up. “No, I’m fine. We can eat it tomorrow.”

Somehow, the thought of your party leftovers doesn’t feel unappetizing at all.

Pierro’s mask and your veil are on the night-table, along with your diamond jewelry. Your dress should be somewhere on the floor.

He grips your arm. “Where are you going?”

You sheepishly face him, wincing at the light pressure. “Going to my room. To sleep.”

He sighs, pulling you closer. “Stay.”

“...All right.”

His bed is soft. You return to his arms and rest your head on the pillow, giving in to your exhaustion. He’s saying something. Something kind, judging by his tone. Your name.

The left side of the bed is comfortable.

viii. flectere si nequeo superos, acheronta movebo

Your relationship has improved since your birthday.

As much as you hate to admit it, you’ve become more resigned to your captivity. It’s so easy to ignore the reality of your situation when you feel so happy.

Pierro has been kinder to you. Beneath his strict exterior, you’ve been seeing more traces of your old companion. The proximity between your chairs remains close and you permanently move to his bedchambers. Your conversations have become more intimate.

“Am I allowed to be this happy?”

“What do you mean?”

Pierro looks up from the chessboard. You move another piece.

“I don’t know,” you mutter. “It’s just…you really don’t want me to do anything for you? You’re just going to keep me around for the New World?”

He moves a black queen this time. “I told you before: Your former status is no longer a concern. There is no need for you to question your place by my side.”

“I know but—” You shake your head and focus on the game. “Never mind.”

Pierro clearly isn’t satisfied with that response. Feeling the weight of his gaze, you adjust your veil. He didn’t suspect anything from your recent Flower Ball embroidery, but your puffy eyes will be an obvious hint to Havria’s birthday.

Your king is cornered again. As you move a pawn, the door slams open.

“Lord Harbinger! There has been an emergency!”

A Fatui officer rushes inside, followed by two frantic maids. Surprised, you slide the pawn to the wrong square and knock over a few chess pieces.

The air grows cold.

“I do not recall permitting an audience with you, Lieutenant Dominik.”

Even you flinch in response. Despite his composure, Pierro’s irritation is evident. The fearful “We tried to stop him!” of the maids affirms that.

Dominik kneels on the floor. “Forgive me, my lord! But this is an urgent matter!”

Pierro turns to the maids. “Escort Lady ______ to our bedchambers.”

“Yes, Lord Harbinger!”

“Pierro.” You turn to him, hesitantly leaving the sofa. “I’ll be waiting for you.”

“I will see you once this matter is settled,” is all he tells you, staring down your unwelcome visitor. “I expect more competence from an informant of your ranking, Lieutenant.”

Dominik shudders, remaining in their kneeling position. You follow the maids out of his private office and into the hallway. Just as they close the door, you hear their voices.

“The Child of Ni—”

“Silence.”

What?

“My lady?” One of the maids—Sofia, you think—turns to you. “We must go.”

“Of course.” You cast a final glance at the door before you begin walking. “Thank you.”

Were they going to say ‘Night’? They couldn’t possibly be talking about him, could they?

The bedchambers are quiet. The maids leave you inside and close the door. You lie in bed, staring at the empty space next to you. You can trust Pierro…right?

Just in case, you wave your hand and imagine the private office. Soon enough, you hear two voices. Soft, fragmented, but audible.

“...divine karma…many afflicted.”

“...send more troops…Miseria.”

Did Pierro just mention Oizys’s city? Why would he still care about Miseria?

You continue listening.

“Bad…cursed. Misery, misfortune…”

“...remains? Dispirited soldiers…assured victories.”

Misery, misfortune…why are they discussing Oizys’s divine ability? What does it have to do with warfare? And what did they mean about karmic debt?

Your nails dig into the mattress.

“...others? Archon Residue…”

“The Doctor sent a report…early stages.”

“Inform me…public hearths were…exceptional fire.”

“...singing. Hallucinations have…”

The taste of metal invades your mouth but you continue to bite down on your lip.

They could only be talking about Vesta and Pasithea. And what’s this about Archon Residue and the Doctor’s involvement?!

Vesta’s extinguished fire. The strange singing you heard from the Second Harbinger’s laboratory. Their discussion of Oizys’s curse and victory.

…

Has the Fatui been using your friends’ remains this whole time?

Blood trickles down your chin. With a shaky hand, you wipe it clean and turn to the right side of the bed. Would he really do this after everything you told him?

The voices suddenly sound clearer. Have they moved closer to the door?

“Where are you going, my lord?”

“I will summon a maid. The humidity level in the room has suddenly risen.”

Pierro leaves the office.

*✧･ﾟ

“It appears that my suspicions were not unfounded.”

Pierro is straight to the point. You rise from the bed, glaring at his figure in the doorway.

On the blanket, a smear of blood evaporates into mist.

“How long have you known?”

“I’ve had my suspicions,” he replies, glaring. “How much of our conversation did you overhear?”

“Enough to give myself away, clearly,” you reply, gripping the bedpost. “So tell me, what is so urgent about Miseria that Lieutenant Dominik came here without permission?”

They specifically mentioned divine karma. Does this mean that Oizys…?

“There is no use in concealing information from you,” he sighs. “In summary, your former territory and the city of Miseria have been beset with curses in the previous months. We presume it to be the lingering resentment of the Child of Night.”

“And why is that?”

Pierro crosses his arms. “There have been sightings of a demon in your cemetery. It bears a striking resemblance to the religious imagery of your deceased friend.”

“I see,” you reply, gritting your teeth, “and what will you do to him?”

“That is confidential information.”

“Oh, really?” Your voice rises in volume, as does the mist on the blanket. “I think I have every right to know about Oizys and your other secrets. Tell me, what have you done with my friends’ remains?”

There is zero remorse on his face. “If you are pertaining to the Lord of the Hearth and the Goddess of Consciousness, then you can already deduce my answer.”

“How dare you!”

Mist swirls around the room, heavy and thick, but Pierro manages to cross the room towards you. You raise your arm but he catches it quickly.

“I advise you to be rational,” he snaps. “The Child of Night is dead. Whatever is prowling in your former territory is no longer your friend.”

“Don’t touch me!”

Your attempt to raise the mist is dashed as Pierro pins you to the bed. He grips your wrists with enough force to make you panic.

“Is this what you will do with me eventually?” you shout. Hot tears flow down the sides of your face. “Do you intend to make an instrument out of me as well?!”

Stupid. Not even Havria was this trustful.

“You already know how their deaths affected me, that their graves were still important to me! How could you—”

You struggle some more, only to shriek when Pierro strengthens his grip.

“I advise that you remember your place,” he says coldly, removing your veil and setting it aside. “Though your soul is worthy for the New World, even you are not safe from my scorn.”

“I don’t want to hear that right now! I’ve had enough of you and the Tsari—!”

A resounding pop interrupts you, followed by your pained scream. The only thing more excruciating than your sprained wrist is the sensation of Pierro’s fingertips wiping your tears.

“As I said, no harm will come to you so long as you are loyal to Her Majesty,” he tells you. “Your friends have long fallen, and your personal sentiments offer little insight into the importance of preserving their memory.”

“You…” Your voice is reduced to pathetic whimpers. “I…I thought I…”

Those diamond pupils hold your gaze, cold and unforgiving. “That is final.”

You should have left him to die that day.

The mist recedes.

*✧･ﾟ

You return to your old bedchambers.

The doors and windows are locked. Your embroidery kit is confiscated along with the needles. Esfir and Karine visit you with your study material and meals on a tray, but you reject most of them. It takes a while to readjust to your empty bed.

You don’t see much of Pierro in the following days. He spends less time in the estate to evade your supervision, and the servants’ gossip is hushed. You receive no more news on Oizys and your friends’ remains.

Your wrist is treated. The ice pack numbs your pain but it barely helps. You can’t forget the ruthless look on Pierro’s face when he hurt you.

You’ve never felt more angry with yourself.

Why did you let him do all of this to begin with? Out of fear or pity? Because his dreams of the New World trumped your own worthless existence?

You could spite him. Fall asleep for a century…or more? As the Tsaritsa’s underling, he is probably granted immortality. Perhaps you shouldn’t wake up at all.

But Oizys is still out there.

“Karine?”

She puts down the breakfast tray. “Yes, my lady?”

Esfir also turns to you, bandages in hand.

“When is the Jester returning from his mission?” you ask.

They exchange looks. “We are not allowed to share that information.”

“All right. Could you at least give this to him when he returns?” You give Karine a signed envelope, wincing at the pain radiating from your wrist.

“Of course, my lady. We will do so immediately.”

“Thank you for everything,” you whisper, “and I’m sorry.”

A ball of mist hovers under your palm, accompanied by flecks of light.

“My lady, what are you—!”

Your thurible is pristine from years of disuse. You quickly open it and swipe your palm through the built-in blade. Blood spills into the censer.

Dark clouds emanate from your Catalyst, obscuring the room and filtering through the keyhole. Esfir and Karine rush towards you, only to disappear into the mist. You raise the mist in the manor, hearing their screams in the hallway along with their coworkers’.

“Where am I?”

“How did we end up in the kitchen?!”

“I can’t reach the foyer!”

“Inform Lord Pierro at once!”

Their panic is unbearable. You can sense every scream, every frantic movement, every cry for help. But this time, you must resist the urge to help them.

The window is next. It takes a few tries but your thurible finally smashes the glass.

“I’m sorry,” you repeat to the empty bedroom.

The servants will be fine. The mist will disappear in a few days, or perhaps earlier if you are slain first. Then the manor will be free from your dominion. Your signed letter will prove their innocence.

You swing your thurible, smiling. What will the Fatui make out of you, you wonder? A special weapon? A tool to spy on their enemies? Or maybe they will keep you alive to harvest your blood for the rest of eternity.

That doesn’t matter. It is only fair after all that you’ve survived.

ix. memento vivere

Miseria has fallen.

Your brief inspection is devastating. The Fatui has taken control over the city. The historic temple has been replaced with a church for the Tsaritsa. The people are consumed with misery and anxiety, likening their misfortune to a divine curse.

You almost cannot believe it. Oizys’s punishments were never this harsh.

You advance to your old territory before any Fatui officers notice you. After subduing so many pursuers, you already feel the strain from using your powers. Your thurible had to be refilled numerous times.

Your territory is even more unrecognizable. In your absence, the forest has been converted to a facility site. A Snezhnayan-style building stands in the place of your temple. The pasithea flowers have died out.

Surprisingly, the achlys flowers have multiplied. Fields of white flower spikes grow amongst the remaining flora in stark contrast to the unburied corpses.

So many masked humans. Did Oizys kill all of them?

A thick miasma of divine karma permeates the area, growing stronger as you approach the cemetery. Several graves have been excavated, leaving gaping holes in the ground. The two statues are missing.

A dark figure stands over an empty grave, holding a bloody Claymore.

“Oizys?”

He turns around. “█████?!”

The divine karma is so oppressive. You remain in your spot, but Oizys closes the distance and captures you in a tight hug. You nearly collapse from the miasma.

“It’s…is it really you?” you whisper.

A large smile cuts his shadowy face. “Who else?”

He feels so cold.

You pull away, processing the sight before you. This isn’t the body you cleaned and buried all those years ago. It is incorporeal, hazy at the edges, marred with bleeding wounds. Instead of his death suit, he is wearing his bloody robes with ruined embroidery.

You never wanted to see his mutilated corpse ever again.

No, you shouldn’t think that. This is still Oizys.

Pain throbs from your sprained wrist. You look down to find him touching your bandages.

“█████.” He grips your wrist tightly. “What happened to you?”

“It’s nothing to worry about,” you reply quickly, slipping out of his grasp. “Listen, you’re in serious danger. I don’t know if there’s a way for you to leave but—”

“Leave?” He stares at you with bloodshot eyes. “I come back and you’re gone, not a trace of mist left. The next thing I know, these masked Snezhnayans take over, destroying your temple and the cemetery! And you expect me to leave after all that?”

The miasma is overwhelming. Unsettled, you take a step back.

He doesn’t notice. “And do you know what I found in my own city? Those ungrateful ants worshiping the Cryo Archon as though I had never existed!”

You shake your head vehemently. “Oizys, don’t take it out on your people. They—”

“Is this how you felt?” he laughs bitterly, tears rolling down his cheeks. “I knew it. I shouldn’t have accepted your followers back then. I should have punished them for you.”

“You can’t say that!” you exclaim. “Think about it clearly; it’s one thing to harm the Fatui but they were all innocent!”

There is a murderous look in his eyes.

“Oh, █████,” he frowns. “Have you learned nothing from how humanity abused your kindness? How they abandoned you and killed our friends?”

He’s wrong. “That…I couldn’t provide for them or fulfill my duty!”

“Those wretched creatures caused our suffering!”

His voice cracks on the last word. Oizys coughs up black smoke and you immediately approach him, only for him to step back.

“Forget it,” he snaps. “It’s useless to convince you.”

“Says the person who joined a war and gained nothing from killing what must’ve been several civilians! At least I’m still alive,” you shoot back.

“Well, I wouldn’t have died if you had joined me.”

What did he just say?

The miasma intensifies. When Oizys raises his head, there is only disdain in his eyes.

“Among our friends, why did it have to be you?” he whispers. “Maybe things would have turned out differently if someone else survived.”

“Oizys.” Tears fill your eyes. “You…you don’t really mean that, do you?”

This isn’t right. This isn’t how it usually goes. It should be you saying that and him assuring you otherwise. If even he believes that, what else can you think?

His gaze flits from your wrist to your neck. “You didn’t answer my question earlier. Did those humans hurt you? Why are you wearing a foreign necklace?”

Your necklace? You look down, belatedly realizing that you are still wearing your necklace from Pierro. The pale blue diamonds twinkle in the fading light.

“Wait.” He touches the pendant under your veil. “I’ve seen this style before; it’s not from Snezhnaya. The design, the material…”

“Hey, not too close.” You try to step away but he keeps a firm grip on the chain.

“Is this from Khaenri’ah?”

You can’t look him in the eye. “I—”

“It would benefit you to lay your hands off what is mine.”

You are doomed.

Pierro enters the cemetery, wielding a sword. Despite his serious expression, his gaze is absolutely livid.

Oizys merely scoffs. “Another masked offender. How many of you—”

He stops talking, gripping your necklace tighter. His eyes fix on Pierro’s diamond accessories then his pupils.

“█████.” Any remaining warmth for you has been dashed. “Is he from that nation?”

You can’t answer him. Neither can you meet Pierro’s cold glare.

It’s too late. Oizys leaves your side and appears in front of him, swinging his Claymore, but Pierro dodges it in time. The miasma thickens.

“You wretched human!” he shouts, attempting another swipe. “How dare you!”

A dark blue galaxy-like aura appears in Pierro’s hand, shooting at Oizys’s neck. He gasps, clawing at his throat, but the Khaenri’ahn magic restrains him.

You grip your thurible. “Stop, you’ll—!”

Pierro’s glare is absolutely chilling. “I have finally been granted an audience with you, Child of Night. On behalf of my fallen compatriots, I return your blow.”

“I should have wiped out your despicable race until my dying breath!”

Oizys sets himself free and hits Pierro’s sword this time. The latter stumbles, only to quickly recover and fight back.

You rush towards them, swinging your thurible to spread the mist. Even if you can’t do much, you should at least distract Pierro and give your friend a chance to escape.

“Oizys, don’t underestimate—!”

The blade that cuts you isn’t Pierro’s.

Your back hits a gravestone, but what shocks you is the pain radiating from your cheek. Through the tear in your veil, you make out a disgusted expression.

Oizys looks away. “Just disappear already, █████.”

Why would he say such terrible things to you?

Pierro turns to you, eyes widening. Suddenly, he goes on the offense and successfully strikes Oizys in the leg. Whatever magic he had used earlier is imbued within his sword.

Oizys steps back, crashing into a patch of achlys flowers. He swings his Claymore again, slicing several flowers in the process. “Die already!”

You touch your cheek. Blood drips from the wound and onto the ground. Oizys didn’t hesitate to hurt you, not that he needed to in the first place—you were nowhere close to Pierro. The beheaded achlys flowers litter the ground, quickly trampled.

That thing is no longer Oizys.

What should you do now? The mist engulfs the entire cemetery. You can sense the entire battle. Oizys keeps flinging insults at Pierro, talking about how he will properly punish humanity this time. The latter doesn’t say much.

“You are gravely mistaken. I am not allowing her to escape from me.”

Oizys’s blade grazes his shoulder.

Pierro…did he just stumble?! Oizys laughs and hits him again.

The mist rises. You sense a shocked gasp as the ghost steps forward and gets transported to the other side of the cemetery.

“█████? Did you—”

The mist parts between you and Oizys. There is more blood on his clothes—Pierro’s, not his own. He stares at you, dumbstruck.

“Has your mind been utterly broken?!”

He runs towards you, only to disappear into a cloud of mist. You dodge his attacks, careful to keep Pierro at a distance. You take a few more steps and allow Oizys to find you.

He lunges at you, only to be splattered with a spray of blood.

Right in the eyes.

Mist rises from his eyes and wraps around his face.

He figures it out quickly. “█████! How could you do this to me?!”

His screams are too much to bear. You ignore both his frantic thoughts and the renewed pain in your arm.

Oizys begins stumbling in circles. The mist claims him, covering his eyes and obscuring his vision. This isn’t enough. It will take—

A blade cuts through his heart.

Pierro? When did he find you?

With a final cry, Oizys collapses to the ground. The miasma clears. His body turns more hazy and he ceases to think. When you approach his corpse and release your claim, his eyes are cloudy.

He’s gone.

A pained groan snaps you out of your thoughts. Pierro keels over, clutching his shoulder.

“Pierro!” Quickly, you help him sit down. “Where does it hurt? Do you feel faint?!”

Your voice can’t keep up with your thoughts. You grip his arms and inspect the wounds, horrified when you hear another hiss of pain. His mask lays on the ground, half-broken. There’s so much blood. You can’t lose—

“Compose yourself.”

He grabs your arm. The diamonds in his eyes are so clear, so bright.

“I…” You try to pull away. “Are you really all right?”

His grip is so tight, unwilling to let go. His fingertips press down on your sprained wrist, triggering another wave of pain. His glare remains terrifying.

“You will have to do more to escape from me,” he snaps.

The mist clears.

You raise your other arm. Pierro catches it in time, only for you to stomp on his foot.

He hisses in pain. “You—”

“You idiot!”

Hot tears roll down your cheeks, stinging your wounds. You try to stand up, only to collapse as dizziness overtakes you.

“______!” Pierro catches you in time, anger giving way to concern.

You glare at him. “What in the world were you thinking? Do you have no sense of self-preservation at all?!”

He examines your wounds. “That is a hypocritical statement coming from you.”

“I don’t care! It’s your fault that this all happened to begin with!”

You’ve never felt more relieved in your entire life.

You throw your arms around him and continue sobbing.

“I don’t even know the death rites for a Khaenri’ahn!” you sniffle. “How do you expect me to properly bury you?!”

Pierro lifts your veil and wipes your tears.

“You can cease your hysterics,” he says softly. “I am not letting you go anywhere.”

Behind you, Oizys’s ghost dissipates into the mist.

*✧･ﾟ

The ride home is anything but pleasant.

“The chains are still uncomfortable.”

“That is a necessary precaution.” Pierro adjusts the cuffs and gives you a stern look. “Once we return home, you will release your claim on the estate. There will be no more eavesdropping.”

At least his touch is gentle. His hand trails up your arm, from your sprained wrist to the bandaged wounds. The field doctors had been efficient.

“You will also be confined under strict surveillance,” he adds. He meets your gaze, trapping your reflection in his diamond pupils. “In our bedchambers. I will keep a proper eye on you this time.”

You sigh and lean back in your carriage seat. “You are absolutely cruel. In case you haven’t realized, I could have killed you anytime and still chose not to. And even if I wanted to do that right now, I’m too weak.”

You can’t tell if your lethargy is from blood loss or karmic debt, probably both. Despite his own wounds, Pierro seems to be in exponentially better condition.

“The creature we slew was not the true Child of Night.”

“Huh?” You look up, facing the seat across from you.

Pierro’s gaze is sympathetic. “It was nothing more than the lingering resentment of your deceased friend, so whatever claims he made were untrue.”

“I know,” you reply sheepishly.

Oizys is truly gone. No more warm smiles, blessings of happiness, or lively meals together. May his soul finally find peace.

“Here, take this.”

Mist fills the carriage. Pierro sits up in alarm, only for you to toss your thurible at him.

He catches it, surprise painting his features. “Might there be a reason why you are voluntarily surrendering your Catalyst?”

“Must I articulate my answer?” You cross your arms, leveling him with a tired look. “Take it. Add it to your creepy collection, use my blood as you see fit, I don’t care. So long as I no longer need to hold that terrible thing.”

He stares back at you for a few seconds before setting your thurible aside. “The Fatui has no use for this weapon.”

You think you can believe him this time.

You take off your veil. The fabric is torn beyond repair; you will need to sew a new one. Maybe you can ask Pierro for embroidery ideas.

Outside the window, the scenery switches to a swirling snowscape. A few Snezhnayans are walking against the blizzard.

No need to worry about them; they can persevere. If not, they should still be safe under Pierro’s leadership.

You leave your seat and walk over to Pierro’s. Pain shoots up your leg and you nearly fall, but he quickly catches you and moves you to his side.

“Don’t overexert yourself,” he mutters, but his tone is less harsh. His arm wraps around you, pulling you close.

“Hey, Pierro? Are you staying home tomorrow?”

“Why do you ask?”

You rest your head on his uninjured shoulder. “I just feel like cooking, is all. Do you have any requests?”

A short pause. When Pierro turns to you, there is a soft gleam in those four-pointed stars. A small smile cuts across his face.

“Your cream stew was my favorite.”

You smile back. “That is good to hear.”

What else? You will need to prepare the ingredients, pick the right tableware, maybe even ask Pierro if he’d like to assist you again. And so many other things.

The sky turns dark. The estate is still miles away and you will be trapped in Pierro’s company for a few more hours…and the rest of eternity for that matter. But for some reason, that fact doesn’t bother you in the slightest.

For the first time in years, you actually look forward to tomorrow.

♡

Author’s Note ๑ Side story from Pierro’s POV

Do not ask me how I ended up creating an ultra-detailed darling and a bunch of Genshin OCs for this fic. I am still processing the fact that I wrote a Pierro fic and that it turned out this way (● ˃̶͈̀ロ˂̶͈́)੭ꠥ⁾⁾

If you actually read this to the end, I hope the experience was worth it!! Thank you to everyone for eagerly anticipating this and giving your lovely feedback on my previous fics. Do tell me if you enjoyed Pierro and Savior! Darling’s story, and Happy New Year~

Tag a Pierro enjoyer!! @kocherry @mirdance @victoria1676 @mnemosyneechan @artiifex @pierroswife @fluffy-koalala @lcveaesop @teabutmakeitazure @nicebonescomrades @ansy-tea

Thank you for your interest in reading!! @yandere-romanticaa​ @ddarker-dreams​ @cinnamonest​ @yanmaresu​

[hllfireclb]

"I‘ll make you feel better Princess“ | Older!eddie X Fem!reader

Pairing: Older Eddie X Fem Reader (reader is 21, Eddie in his 30‘s)

Warnings: +18 MINORS GO AWAY ISTG, Age gap, slight Daddy kink I think?? hurt / angst,pet names, smut, eddie being a soft meanie, oral (f receiving), if I missed something pls let me know!

Word count: 2.3k

a/n: I’m such a simp for older Eddie x reader <\\\3 so I HAD to write something about it..this is my first time trying to write smut and idk how to feel about it. Maybe it’s kinda rushed? Idk :“)

English is not my first language, so I apologize for all kinds of mistakes! Feel free to send requests! feedback is always appreciated but please be nice! Enjoy the story! Don’t like? Don’t read!

Masterlist

It‘s a cold fall night in Hawkins Indiana, 2am to be exact. You should be lying in your bed by now, cuddled up between your plushies and pillows to get some sleep before work tomorrow. Instead you’re here. Sitting in your older neighbors lap while he‘s softly playing with your hair. Your back is pressed against his strong chest, enjoying the comfortable state you’re currently in as his body gives you some warmth. He‘s like your personal human heater. Your eyes are focused on the small screen in front of you, watching whatever lame sitcom is playing at this time, when a soft sigh escapes your lips.

"What is it Sweetheart?“ the deep voice of your fathers co-worker suddenly interrupts your silent staring contest with the screen of the TV. "What do you mean?“ is all you say, not daring to look away from the screen but Eddie has other plans. He wraps his strong arms around your hips, making you face him within 2 seconds and without any struggle. He‘s expecting to see your pretty eyes staring back at his but instead he finds you looking slightly downward, directly onto his chest. His fingertips poke into your side, a sign for you to look at him, but you don’t. You‘re avoiding his gaze on purpose.

"You know exactly what I mean, young lady. What‘s going on in that pretty head of yours?“ his voice is soft but daring. He wants to know what made you come over to his old, messy trailer. Especially because it’s 2am on a Wednesday night and because he knows you have to get up early tomorrow. If you‘re not going to tell him on your own, he‘s going force it out of you.

This time it‘s his turn to let out a heavy sigh after no reaction of yours. One of Eddie‘s hands finds it‘s way to your jaw, gripping it hard to lift your head up a bit and making you look at him. This time your eyes meet with his instantly. They’re beautiful brown, almost like the color of chocolate. His pupils are expanded, not as wide as they are when he‘s horny but just enough to see the pure adoration and concern in his eyes. A simple look of his is all you need to start blushing like a crazy teenager who‘s madly in love.

It‘s not the first time that Eddie looks at you that way. He has done it many times before but ever since the two of you started this little 'affair', how you like to call it, it just feels so much different. So much better. Eddie and you have known each other since you were 16 years old, he actually took care of you sometimes too. Whenever your father was on one of his "business trips" or out partying, Eddie happily decided to look after you. He made you breakfast, watched over you when you had some parties at yours, he drove you to school and picked you up again. People in town started to think that Eddie Munson had found his "lost daughter“ how they liked to call you. But you‘re still pretty much convinced that he‘s just doing all of that for you, because he knows how it feels to grow up without parents. Without a father figure especially.

"Are you gonna talk to me, or do you just wanna keep staring, Princess?“ his voice pulls you out of your thoughts once again, the nickname he has given you making you shiver under his touch slightly. "Sorry..'s just that you‘re really fucking pretty" your lips form into a soft smile. The grip on your jaw loosens up as Eddie gives you his usual, deep chuckle. Your favorite sound ever, next to his moans. His hand wanders down your body until it‘s settled on your hips, drawing slow circles into the flesh of your barely covered ass. "Well…y‘know I appreciate your compliments. But you gotta talk to me Angel, what made you come over to an old man like me at that time, mh?" You stay silent again, causing another sigh of Eddie‘s but before he‘s able to continue talking, you start talking.

"It‘s just..my dad was being an asshole again. I didn’t want to argue with him…so I left. And I thought coming here was the best thing to do.." you shyly admit while looking down to his chest once again. Not daring to look up, he’s probably smirking like always. Teasing you. Your fingers slowly start dragging over the soft material of his tank top, playing with the hem of it as you reach the bottom. Eddie stalks over your hands, following every single movement with his eyes. Gosh he thinks you‘re adorable like this. Sitting there, in one of his old Shirts and your panties only, right on his lap, while you’re playing with his clothes. He probably shouldn’t be head over heals for a younger women, especially not you since he has known you, since what feels like forever. Plus, you’re his co-workers daughter who just started working. All of this is so wrong. But it feels so goddamn right.

"You want me to make you feel better Princess? I‘ll take care of you, no matter what you want me to do" and he means it. If you need to cuddle up to his chest and ball your eyes out, he‘ll be the one to hold you close to him and let you wet his shirts with your tears. If you want to punch someone, he‘ll be the one to let you punch him. If you need a hot chocolate and ice cream, he‘ll drive to the next supermarket and get you everything you need. If you need to get fucked until you‘re nothing but a crying, cock-drunk Slut, oh he‘ll happily be the man to make you cry beneath him. He‘d do anything for you.

Your fingers make their way up to his chest again, locking your gaze with his carefully as you do and nod in response to his earlier question. "Words y/n." Of course he needs words. "Please make me feel good Eddie". That‘s all he needs. "I’ll make you feel better Princess".

Before you know it you’re flipped over, lying on your back with the soft material of the couch touching your back. Eddie‘s fast with his movements though. He’s hovering above you in the split of a second, pressing his wet lips onto yours as he kisses you messily. He may be older now but he’s still kinda chaotic when it comes to making out. You love it though. You softly moan into the kiss when one of his hands starts massaging your left boob, slowly playing with it as his other hand wraps around your throat to give it a soft squeeze.

He‘s lying between the fat of your thighs just as fast as you were lying on the couch. His arms wrap around your legs after he slowly pulls down your panties, smiling a bit because of the wetness that already lingers between your folds. He drags them all the way down, to your ankles before he sits up again, removing them completely and leaving you in front of him in nothing but his shirt. What a beautiful sight. You mirror his action, sitting up straight with your hands at the hem of his shirt. When he realizes you’re about to pull it off, he stops you.

"Keep it on please. You look stunning in this shirt" he smiles at you. Before you‘re able to protest, his lips are on yours again, moving slowly as the two of you find a steady rhythm. Going slow and passionate this time. You feel the light pressure he‘s putting into the kiss, a sign for you to lie down again. You happily follow his unspoken request and lie down, spreading your legs wider so he‘s able to get comfortable between your thighs. His arms wrap around your legs and hips once again and he slips even further until his lips graze over the skin of your inner thigh, making you gasp softly.

You‘re able to feel a smug grin form on his lips after he starts sucking on your skin slightly, leaving you with a few dark marks that only you and him will be able to see. A hot feeling starts to build up in your body, causing you to whimper softly. "Ed’s please..no teasing today. I need you" you sigh. Eddie doesn’t want to tease you, well at least not right now…but he wants to take his sweet time with you. He wants to worship your body in every way possible. He wants to show you how much he loves to make you feel good. To him, it doesn’t matter if he gets off on it. His only goal is to make you cum…also, most of the time he cums in his pants like a dumb teenage boy, just from hearing and seeing you fall apart beneath him.

"Sorry Sweetheart, just wanted to mark what‘s mine" he winks at you before pulling you even closer, making you gasp again after his tongue slowly starts drawing slow circles on your, already aching, clit. The two of you never spoke about what actually is going on with you..if you’re a couple already or not..but you couldn’t care less right now. Sweet Eddie really loves taking his time, devouring every soft moan and gasp of yours as he starts giving your bud the softest kitten licks. His slow make-out session with your clit doesn’t last long though, he knows what you need and he‘ll gladly give it to you. So his tongue starts to lick through your folds, which are soaked in your own juices by now, enjoying the taste of you in his mouth as he starts playing with your hole.

Normally he‘d be wearing his tongue piercing right now since he loves eating you out with it. It’s his new favorite thing to do, ever since you’ve told him that it makes you cum even faster, even harder…but because of the time you’ve decided to come over, he‘s sadly not wearing it. He‘ll definitely catch up to that tomorrow morning. While his tongue starts to happily explore your insides, one of your hands settles in his messy curls to tug on it every now and then. It helps you to find a hold and to not squirm away from him.

"Eddie Fuck! 'S so good“ you moan out softly while tugging on his hair, when his thumb lazily starts massaging your clit. He ate you out so many times by now, he just knows the ways to make you feel good. To make you forget everything. Others would get tired of cumming so fast, but you? Oh no, you love it. Especially because Eddie is so outrageous good at making you cum several times. With every soft tug on his hair, his own moans start to get louder…causing you to shiver and curl your toes into the sofa. He knows what he’s doing, that’s for sure.

Another moan escapes your lips, this time it‘s louder and more intense, causing Eddie to grin and stop his actions. "Already close, huh? Babe I didn’t even eat you out for five minutes" his smirk is devilish, causing your poor Pussy to twitch. He’s teasing you. "I told you to not tease me!" You pout at him. Oh how he loves seeing you like this, cheeks pink and chest moving up and down rapidly because of how hard you‘re breathing. "Yeah, yeah right..sorry" he grins even wider when he puts more pressure to your clit, causing your head to fall back and a whine to leave your mouth.

He‘s fast with continuing his previous actions, eating you out like the starved man that he is. He can’t get enough of you, especially of how you taste on his tongue. He slurps up every bit of juice, every moan of yours as he stares up at you, seeing you fall apart on his tongue only. It‘s embarrassing how fast you‘re at your own limit, feeling the knot in your lower abdomen build up already just from him eating your out. Pathetic. You slowly look up again, seeing his eyes stare directly back at yours. His black pupils took over the soft brown color which you were able to see earlier, the lust and the Hunger completely took over him by now. He grins wide when he catches you staring down at him, causing you to blush even harder as another moan escapes your lips.

You can feel your legs start twitching after a while and your breath starts to speed up a bit, Eddie feels it too. His grip on your hips tightens and his tongue starts moving faster as he moans into you. You don’t notice how he starts humping the soft material beneath you, trying to get some relief himself while he rubs intense circles on your clit. Another loud moan of yours fills the living room as you feel the knot in your tummy snap "ohmygodohmygodohmygod Eddie!! Fuck fuck fuck!". It‘s music to Eddie‘s ears. The best melody he has ever heard. Knowing he‘s the only one who makes you cum this hard and this fast makes him moan into you again as he tries to get everything of your orgasm. Eating everything up like it‘s his last meal. He takes you through your orgasm,while he helps you to calm yourself down by drawing smooth circles into your skin. When you‘re finally completely back to earth, he kisses your pussy one last time before he helps you to sit on his lap once again, holding you close.

"What about you? You didn’t get to cum and I know how painf-" you start but he cuts you off. "This wasn’t about me. It was about you Doll. We’ve got time for more tomorrow" his hand strokes over the back of your head as he plants a soft kiss on your lips, making you taste yourself on his tongue. You really do not deserve this man.

[chaifootsteps]

God I’m so fucking tired of Vivziepop. I’m sorry, I love some of her stuff, and I’ve learned to do more dynamic poses with her art, but I can’t watch anything made by her anymore. She’s too much. Too many rumors(that may or may not be true), has too many characters that look white, too many curse words, inappropriate usage of voodoo and rape, and making a character that is a literal cannibal and serial killer be sympathetic. I get it, it’s hell, and no one’s innocent(EXECPT FOR THE FUCKING ANTI-CHRIST APPARENTLY???), but I’ve been too many people make Alastor have mommy issues and people in the comments with be like “NOT MY POOKIE ALASTOR!!”

BITCH HE WOULD OWN YOUR SOUL AND TORTURE YOU SHUT UP!!!!

Also the fucking problem with backbone of wires Vox, “my fashion is stuck in 2012” Velvet, and that dickshitter Val. I’m perfectly fine with conventionally attractive people being horrendous people, it happens a lot, but they also downplay (sometimes) what the other Vees do and make Val seem like the worst. Vel sells a date rape drug, and Vox literally makes stalking easer and enables Val. THEY BOTH DO!!

And dear FUCKING LORD STOP SIMPING OVER ALASTOR. sure I get simping over a character that has a good character design, but he would push you aside without another thought. He. Does. Not. Care. ALSO IVE SEEN TOO MANY “JUST THE TIP ALASTOR!” FUCK THE SHIT OFFFF!!!!! STOP IT YOU HORNY MOTHERFUCKERSZZ!!!

And also adams entire character. I genuinely hate him. I don’t care for him. He was done so dirty and no I will not say that his character is good. I get it, yes a lot in the Bible about Adam is very misogynistic(for fucks sake in the Jewish Bible he got upset at Lilith because Lilith wanted to have sex equally(side by side sex)), but he’s. Fucking. Adam. THE FIRST MAN!!! Would he not be monitored by the seraphim or god himself??? He’s very important!! And when he fought Charlie, I was disappointed. “The entire human race came from these balls!!!” FUCK OFF!!! Would the first man, whom was made in gods image, curse like a sailor and call his second in command “danger tits???”

Rosie I like. No complains, just the voice is a bit much.

Angel and Husk. “Oh we’re doing slow burn!!” BITCH WHERE. HUH??? MASQUERADE IS LITERALLY THEM JUST FALLING IN LOVE GET OFF MY DICK

Also it’s so fucking vile that she named Vaggie Vagina. What the shit. Huh??? “Oh it’s mysogonistic Adam! It makes sense!” Yeah and going with that logic the fuck is lute short for?? Yeah, it’s a joke about female genitalia and it makes me sick,, I don’t even like saying her name.

Also fucking Pentious and Cherri. Get the FUCKKKK OFFFF. I just can’t stand them. Ugh. I don’t like it. I really don’t. It’s bad

Nifty. No.

Sorry, this was a rant. I’m so sorry

Sometimes you just need to rant, and I don't blame you one bit.

it's so, so fucking much, all the time.

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

Follow-up to this post, which I'm not reblogging because it was too long to put all that all over people's feeds again. That post was a follow-up to two earlier posts, one of which I linked from it and one of which I copy-pasted into the text. So there's your context, if you'd like any, for me posting the following audio clip, followed by a transcription of the audio in it:

Chris Skinner: This is a really weird question, Andy. It’s from [my first and last name], I don’t fully understand it myself but couldn’t resist it. Andy Zaltzman: Right. Chris Skinner: Um. Hello. In July 2004, a BBC questionnaire asked Andy Zaltzman and John Oliver what they most wanted in the world, and they both said a head like an orange. Andy Zaltzman: Right. Chris Skinner: In July 2024, Andy Zaltzman listed his top pipe dreams on The Bugle, and included a head like an orange. No one gave context on either occasion, and I cannot for the life of me recall any time in the intervening twenty years where Andy has referenced this. Please tell us, Andy. Why do you want a head like an orange?

Andy Zaltzman: Right. Uh, it’s a good question, Sarah. Um… well, I don’t know if I actively want a head like an orange, although I have said, clearly, on at least two occasions, that I would like a head like an orange. The, uh… I don’t remember the BBC questionnaire, uh, from 2004. To be honest, I don’t even remember saying it on The Bugle in July, one month ago, in 2024. But I’m nearly fifty now. These things just slip out of my mind, because my head is like a sieve. So an orange would be better, it would store information better, I think, than my current brain. Um, well this goes back to, uh, a favourite joke from my childhood – the joke about the man with a head like an orange. Have you not – are you aware of this joke, Chris?

Chris Skinner: I don’t think I am. Please tell me the joke. Andy Zaltzman: Well, the joke, uh, fundamentally, is, uh… and, John – I think John was, and, Chris Addison, who we worked with on The Department – I think we all liked the head like an orange joke. The joke is fundamentally a guy – you know, a guy is in a bar, and someone comes in, um, and, just looks like a normal person, but he’s got a head like an orange. And, uh, the guy goes up and said, sorry, I don’t want to intrude, but do you mind telling me why you’ve got a head like an orange? And he said, “Oh yeah, it’s quite an interesting story. I went to an antique shop, bought, uh, bought an old lamp, and then, I was just polishing it at home, and this genie came out. He said you can have three wishes, so for my first wish, I wished that I could have – you know, fifty million pounds. So, you know, enough so I’d never have to worry about money again, but not so much that I become an asshole. For my second wish, uh, I wish that I could become the world’s greatest table tennis player, because I’ve always loved table tennis, but I’ve always been rubbish at it. I went out and played – basically unbeatable. And for my third wish, I wished that I had a head like an orange.” Um. So that’s the – that’s the joke. I mean, it’s… you know, is that a joke? Is it an anti-joke? Is it an exploration into the meaning of futility? Is it, uh – does it, does it really get to the very heart of what human ambition is? What are we striving for in life? You know, the, the, the ephemeralities that we cling to, um, and the absurd wishes that humanity has? Who knows? Or is it just, um, a stupid, uh – a stupid joke? Who knows? I mean, that’s not for me to judge. But anyway, we both loved that joke. Obviously, it came up in an interview in 2004, and obviously it was still there in my head twenty years – twenty years later. So… and, you know, it’s clearly a joke that, you know, some people like more than others. And evidently, um, John and I were on the… more. Um, than the others. Um. So anyway, so that’s – it think that’s – that’s as simple as it gets. But again, you know. You look at how the world could be improved – if Donald Trump did not have Donald Trump’s head, but had an orange for a head, he would be instantly a far more likeable person, and much less likely to win the American election, because they’ve never voted for anyone with, uh, a piece of citrus fruit as a head. Uh, if you discount, um,  Grover Cleveland. Um. So, uh – so there you go. Um, so that’s, that’s, that’s – that’s the reason, fundamentally. But, you know, I haven’t actually –

Chris Skinner: I mean, it’s a little bit clearer now. Just a little. Andy Zaltzman: I haven’t – you know, to be honest, Sarah, I haven’t… you know, actually sat down and thought, would I like a head – do I really, really want this? But – because, I mean, there are occasions, um, without wishing to break the secrets of the trade, where as comedians, we do say things we don’t entirely, literally mean. But, you know, on this occasion, I – maybe I do. Maybe I do, subconsciously, literally, metaphorically, mean it. Chris Skinner: Well, good luck on your quest. Andy Zaltzman: Thanks.

They say my full name early in that clip, which I considered bleeping out before sharing it, because I don't want to have my full name on here. But I didn't bother, because... I mean, it's on the podcast. It's on the freely available podcast (the subscriber-only podcast, but still). Seems a bit silly to cut that out of a clip when if someone really wanted to dox me with my full name, they could go listen to it quite easily. I'm pretty sure no one wants to do that. My concerns about privacy are not because I'm worried about the strangers on Tumblr knowing my real name, it's because I don't want the people in my real life to know what I'm doing on the internet. So I censored my full name when I wrote out the transcript, because occasionally friends tell me they were Googling me to watch my old match videos, and I don't need this coming up. But it's on the tape, how fucking weird is that? My real-life name.

I guess I could have thought that through and sent it from an account that didn't have my real name in the signature. But if I'd thought that far, I would have also done things like, not written that question like a fucking Tumblr post. Oh my God, it went on for so long. That thing I do on Tumblr, where I open by listing pieces of context ("in July 2004, a BBC questionnaire", and then "in July 2024, this other thing...") before getting to my point - I know that's not how you're supposed to communicate in real life! I do know that! I do it on Tumblr because I'm a massive fan of context and no one here is captive to my ramblings. I try not to talk like that when I have a direct audience.

I assumed they'd cut the question down, if they did address it, which I did not think they would. I clearly didn't think it through very well at all, but as far as I made any assumptions, I guess I assumed that they get in lots of questions that are a mess written by someone who does not do media for a living, and then they condense it into an appropriately concise statement for a podcast. But nope. Chris Skinner read out every fucking word of my email. Because obviously Andy Zaltzman needed to know that I have catalogued the exact month of his interviews from 2004.

On the subject of editing things into an acceptably media-ready format - I used to do some work as a transcriber, and I learned the different types of transcription. Normally, if I quote from some audio on Tumblr, I'll do intelligent verbatim transcription, which means typing all the words that were said except the filler words (um, uh), filler phrases (I mean, you know), and unnecessary word repetitions. But with Andy Zaltzman, I tend to go pure verbatim transcription, which means typing exactly what he said, leaving all that stuff in. Because with Andy Zaltzman, the filler words tend to seem like an important part of it. It's part of his charm, the extent to which he sounds like he has never done public speaking before, despite having made a career of it for nearly his entire adult life. This isn't a Kitson-like stutter or anything, he's just very socially awkward. And I typed pure verbatim in the above transcription to show that I'm pretty sure my question got him stumbling over his words even more than usual. Andy was so unprepared to be asked to answer for some shit in he said on a BBC questionnaire in 2004, which is absolutely fair enough. You cannot hold people to everything they said in 2004.

I also love how for a professional comedian, Andy Zaltzman is so good at taking anything vaguely surreal and driving it into straight-up anti-humour. He told that joke in such a weird way, in a way that made it seem like classic Zaltzman humour, and I immediately understand why he liked it so much.

He didn't have to ramble for that long; He could have answered my question far more concisely. I didn't ask for half that information. But he gave it to us anyway, and I am so incredibly pleased. I mean, I don't have to ramble for ages in my Tumblr posts either, but I do it, because I respect the art of rambling. And I fucking love listening to other people ramble, especially if they're 1,000 times better than I am at making their ramblings intelligent and funny. Yet, somehow, just as awkward. Fucking brilliant.

So now I come to the even less coherent part of my post, which is to say - Jesus Fucking Christ Andy Zaltzman said my name. Twice. Count them, he said it twice. And I will be saving those audio clips specifically. On one occasion, he specifically addressed me by name, before carefully informing me that sometimes comedians don't mean everything they say, which feels like a genuinely useful thing for Andy Zaltzman to break to me. Thank you, Andy. The next time I'm down a rabbit hole of trying to untangle a comedy mystery, I will keep your helpful words in mind. Good thing to listen to on the anniversary of Cowgate.

On the other hand, I love how literally he took my question. I asked him why he wanted a head like an orange, and he took a fair bit of time to explain to me that actually, he was just making a joke, he doesn't really want a head like an orange, and I should know that sometimes comedians don't mean things literally. To which I would sort of like to tell him... when I said "Why do you want a head like an orange?", I was trying to ask "What joke you were referencing when you talk about that?", and not literally asking why you actually want that in real life. Is it possible that Andy Zaltzman, like me, might have some occasional tendency toward taking things a bit literally? I guess we'll never know.

Anyway, holy hell it turns out that if you have a question for a comedian, you're allowed to just fucking ask them? I truly didn't think that would work. I've been wondering for like two years what Andy Zaltzman and John Oliver were talking about in that BBC questionnaire - it was the repetition in the recent Bugle episode that prompted me to actually email them, but I'd been wondering personally for far longer. It turns out, the whole time, I was allowed to just send a fucking email and get my question answered. Are you allowed to do that with everything? Because that would be far more power than anyone should be allowed to have. You can't do that, that doesn't feel like it should be allowed. If you're confused about something said by a comedian, you're supposed to just do hours and years of internet research into potential explanations, and write long rambling Tumblr posts speculating about it. What kind of world would it be if instead, we could just ask? Or maybe even just assume that, in the words of Andy Zaltzman, "there are occasions, um, without wishing to break the secrets of the trade, where as comedians, [they] do say things [they] don’t entirely, literally mean."

More than that, I inspired a fucking Zaltzman riff! He went off on some stuff about Donald Trump, even avoided the obvious joke about how Trump does have an orange-coloured head, because Andy is better than that. And I even inspired a classic Zaltzman lie! I said this in another recent post, about a radio show the Zaltzman did with Daniel Kitson in 2007, where it was a rare chance to hear how Andy talks when he has no prepared material, and his jokes became almost entirely just telling lies. His prepared material jokes also consist of a lot of lies, but they have a bit of structure and purpose. While when Andy Zaltzman is free-wheeling, showing us there first place his sense of humour goes before he has time to refine any ideas, it's just pure, unadulterated lies. Like in this podcast, where he was in the middle of answering an unexpected question, and just stopped to pluck a lie out of the air for no reason, about a former American president having citrus fruit for a head. A classic Zaltzman lie, because of something I said! I haven't been this proud of myself since I made Nish Kumar laugh by my reaction to his joke at his gig. Inspiring a Zaltzman lie seems similar to inspiring the trademark Kumar laugh, getting USPs out of my favourite comedians.

Also, I'm pleased to see I was at least slightly correct to read significance into Andy Zaltzman referencing the "head like an orange" thing in a Bugle episode where Chris Addison was a guest, and Chris Addison laughed at that and commented "That is a very old, and very in joke." I'd thought at the time that Chris was saying it was an in-joke, as in an "inside joke", probably one that originated around The Department or Political Animal, which were things Chris Addison did with Andy Zaltzman and John Oliver back around 2004, when I originally saw John and Andy reference the "head like an orange". I now think I misunderstood, and Chris Addison sarcastically calling it an "in-joke", meaning "in style", implying that the joke is actually old and out of style. That's my guess, anyway. But Andy Zaltzman mentioned in his reply that Chris Addison also liked that joke, so I was correct to notice that Chris recognized it when Andy made that joke again in 2024.

Well, that was pretty good. He didn't tell me to stop asking stupid questions and never listen to his podcast again. But I definitely am going to stop asking stupid questions now. Good God. Can't believe that happened. Thanks for being unable to resist my weird question, Producer Chris.

[wantingsobad]

vamp!chan drabble

masterlist

pairing : vamp!chan x human!reader

content : simp!chan (my fav chan), established relationship, fluff, mentions of blood, suggestive material (nothing too explicit)

word count : 900

The satin curtains quickly rustled as the wind stronger than the typical night winds blew through the ajar second-story window, a noise that woke you up from the beginning of your night’s sleep.

Sometimes there would be raccoons, squirrels, or birds that would fumble about in the tree outside in the middle of the dark night, but you were sure that the rustling had just been Chan coming in from his night flight with his friends.

This is a routine that is familiar with both of you, but due to your nature of waking easily, you have never been able to sleep through his arrivals back home in the night.

You take a moment to adjust to the darkness of the room, utilizing the dull shine of the moonlight that cascades across the crumpled bed sheets and panelled wood floor.

A quick flash is able to be seen as a swish is heard on your left. A quick turn of the head reveals a dishevelled Chan, clearly dealing with the consequences of choosing to fly out on a night with such strong winds. A shy smile is seen on his face as he attempts to fix his hair without a mirror, feeling guilty for waking you up at such late hours.

He really did mean to come home earlier but he got caught up with the boys after Jisung and Hyunjin would not stop harassing the pigeons that lingered in the street alleys with an incessant drop of pebbles onto the echoey bins that laid next to the slumbering pigeons, finding humor in their startles. Though, The boys will surely leave those pigeons alone now after Chan’s fatherly scolding.

“Hi, baby,” you say while reaching your arms out for him to enter bed, awaiting the comfort from his cuddly form after being left to try and sleep next to a cold side of the bed.

“I’m sorry for waking you up, my love,” he adoringly and ashamedly states while crawling into bed, fitting perfectly into the room made by your arms for him. “I missed you a lot today…”

He quiets down at the end of that sentence as he shoves his head into the junction where your neck and shoulder meet. You can tell based on his energy that today had been draining, whether it had been from work or the hassle of wrangling together the boys every time they go out. Either way, you could tell he needed something, you just had to wait for him to ask…

“I missed you too, Channie. Do you need anything from me?” you ask, knowingly acknowledging what his answer is going to be.

“I’m so hungry, baby,” he admits with a sheepish look up from your shoulder, flitting his eyes from your own to the vein that runs across your neck. “Please, I promise I won’t hurt you. You know I never have and never will.”

His promises like these always warm your heart. You know he would never do anything to hurt you, considering the fact that you had willingly let him feed off of you on multiple occasions, whether it be in intimate times or just casual cuddles on the couch after dinner. This is something he feels comfortable asking you as a favor, bringing on a wild rage of butterflies to take place in your stomach, even after years of dating.

“I know, love,” you say carefully caressing the side of his face while leading that hand back to push him toward your neck, urging him on. “Go ahead, I promise it’s okay.”

He hesitantly releases his fangs, a sight that will never fail to make your knees weak. Something about the power dynamic that he has with you makes you get heated every time he does this, a blush cascading across your cheeks as you tilt your head to the side to grant him room.

His teeth prick the skin lightly first, making you jolt, but a reassuring pat that you give the back of his head grants him the ability to continue, piercing his fangs into the soft skin of your neck. The pain will never be the easiest to handle, but you know that this is something that will forever connect the both of you, for which you are eternally grateful.

A soft movement comes from Chan. His hands sliding up your side and neck, simultaneously rolling his hips against yours. Clearly, you were not the only one to feel something especially intimate about this tonight.

He pulls away for a second to whisper a little, “I love you so much,” before diving into your lips for a passion-filled kiss that proves his absolute adoration for you, providing a metallic taste to grace your tongue.

Your hands slide through his hair, tugging a little while still connecting your lips and hips together. After a moment, you pull away to admire Chan in this pale moonlight that reflects the shimmer of his pale skin.

You don’t think you have ever appreciated Chan as much as you do right in this moment. His softly-curled hair, his perfect lips, his broad build that makes you drool, his eyes that reflect how his entire world is in your hands.

This is a moment of recognition. Chan sees it too when he looks at you. You communicate through the love in each others eyes, silently saying with your hearts.

Together. Forever.

a/n : hey pookies! as it is now up all night season, i would like to show my appreciation of vampire chan. i hope this satisfied some of you and your anticipation for anything skz may release this halloween. i will also be working on my ot8 smau today, so be on the lookout for the first post for that! i love you all! - eb

[the-possum-writes]

i’ve recently gotten into adventure time (i’m very late i know) and was wondering if you could do a finnxfem!reader lemon? they haven’t seen each other in a while cause adventures and what not so it’s a date night at the tree house! reader misses him a lot and is needy and wanting love and it just escalates from there (●’◡’●) tysm!! you can change up the scenario if you’d like, i’m just a simp for this boy 😭💕

In your arms after every Adventure

❥Character: Finn Mertens

❥Tags: 🔞 N/S/F/W, Established relationship, Fem!Reader, PIV Smut, Vanilla, Finn is an adult in this one

❥Synopsis: Finn is always out there dungeon crawling or adventuring for months to no end but he always comes back to you and make up for lost time.

❥Taglist: @watchingfromthefloorboards @foxpearl1wilder

A/n: It's never too late to enjoy~ friendo in this house we all be simping 🛐 took me a while to get in the right head space to write this one, been trying to get used to getting more explicit and use hornier words, but for now this one is still a bit on the softer side cause... I'm still trying ;w;

Finn murmurs, “I missed you,” every time he lowers himself to your chest, taking quick breaths before opening wide to suck mouthfuls of your sensitive boobs one at a time. Finn has developed patience through the years compared to when he was a teenager, learning to take his sweet time with you as if he were relishing his favorite ice cream flavor. Also eating you in that efficiency. He occasionally shifts between his tongue and his crooked teeth, knowing exactly how much pressure to apply to your popped nipple to send shudders through your body with each time his tongue laps around the circular curve of your aureola in sloppy yet delicate movements.

“Finn…” you breathe into his ear, dragging his name in an unfinished sentence. The young man rose from your chest, looking into your loving eyes for your next command like the loyal knight he is. You adjust yourself from beneath his body, raising your hips to grind against the heated bulge radiating from between his legs. “Can we get started, pleaseee?” you ask the human above you, almost embarrassed by your high voice. A brief chuckle vibrates through his own exposed chest, taking a moment away from your breasts to sit upright. “Right! Sorry, I got a little carried away with the twins.”

You look down at the skin surrounding your boobs, riddled with goosebumps, light bite marks and glistening saliva trails that lead to the culprit in front of you. “Riiight, just a bit.” It still brought a short laugh from you.

Finn was so invested in you that he forgot he’s still wearing his pants. His hands are already reaching down to pop off the button and lower the zipper but his midriff still remains a taunting sight for your sore eyes, the low bedroom light casting shadows of his hard on straining against the denim of his pants. While Finn discards his clothing, you turn around to the nightstand and retrieve a silver packet, carefully ripping it open as your boyfriend kneels in front of you so you can slip the condom in place.

Finns hands subtly tremble when they grip the underside of your thighs, raising your bottom just enough for you to slide off your underwear and toss them away from your bed. He’s just as eager as you are, so overwhelmingly desperate that any second spent where he’s not plowing you feels like an eternity.

“Hngg…I also missed this… Hah, oh glob.” His voice comes out like a strangle when he first dips his head into you, slipping it carelessly with how worked up and slick you became during his “little” licking session. You on the other hand grip the sheets like your life depended on it, after spending all this time with nothing but the company of your own hands it feels exhilarating to get your fix with your beloved adventurer. Finn doesn’t waste time with you after that easy dip. Not even a minute has passed and your already laying on your side, with Finn raising your leg way too high just so he can get a better angle to pound into you like a broken drawer, you may not be that flexible but there’s not much to complain since when every time his cock rams into you it's sends ecstatic tremors crashing that has your toes curling.

“Just like that,” Finn moans into your ear after a particular thrust close enough to your bladder, feeling like you’re gonna come any moment now. You don’t know if it’s the obscene squelching of your cunt or his compliments or just the pent up sexual frustration, but the overall sounds affect you more than they should and you’re begging for the sweet release of this dirty tango. “Finn Finn, pleaseee don’t… Yes! Right there!” your voice raises its tone and desperation as you attempt to match his rhythm, a tell tale sign he’s picked up whenever you’re leaning on the edge.

The adventurer tightens his hold around you, affectionately keeping you close and wanting to share such a pivotal moment after not seeing you in months. “Hold out a bit for me baby, I want you to come with me- okay?” Finn slows down his pace a bit, readjusting himself in a way he can use this free hand to play around with your clit, a task harder than it should be with how wet you are down there that has his fingers slipping. “Mmhmm…” you nod, tilting your head slightly backwards so you can meet him in a shared kiss, swallowing delicate gasps and gruff groans with each smooch. Finn eventually picks up the pace again, roughly grabbing your waist as he jack hammers inside your warmth without abandon, you’re consistently tightening around him the louder you raise your voice before it lowers down all together. Releasing a final cry of bliss before your body starts twitching in the aftermath, Finn followed right behind you, his own voice comes out in a strangled moans and repeating your name alongside lilac praises.

Your nose scrunches up when you feel Finn pull out of you, too sensitive down there to even sit up. He takes off the soiled rubber from his dick and tosses it in the waste bin, slipping onto bed with you so he can pull you into his arms a bit more gentle than earlier. You turn around to face him directly this time, swiping away the blonde hair locks glued to his face containing a peaceful expression that swells with love and affection, something he sees reflected in you too. You scoot closer to Finn, “Don’t take too long to come back next time.” You whisper. No matter if it’s a plea or an order, it’s an honest confession coming from a vulnerable heart. Finn takes your soft hand in his, intertwining your fingers together. “Will do.” He responds with that sunny smile of his, before kissing the back of your palm as he seals the promise.

[whumpering-heights]

MASTERLIST

.......Stuff that's finished and posted! .....

The links are functional and will lead to reblogs of my old posts. .......................................................................

Waking Nightmare

This series is still ongoing. Will feature: eldritch horror, monster whumpee, body horror, dehumanization, references to cannibalism. Specific CWs can be found at the top of chapters.

Tagging @pumpkin-spice-whump and @why-not-ask-me-a-better-question to let them know this story is up again!

I: The First Encounter II: Captured III: The Human's Game IV: Ray V: Food VI: Leonard and Ray

ART art of shapeshifter

Immortal Whumpee: Drowning

A standalone drabble. Local immortal gets thrown in sea, and found much, much later. Featuring: gore/body horror at the second section of the story. Vague plans exist for a sequel, but are unlikely to be executed (ba dum tssh.)

........Incomplete section........

Below the cut are the chapters of Behind The Masks, my longest-running series! The chapters that are crossed out, are found. Once I've recovered all I can, I will re-upload in chronological order.

The links will be added when I re-upload the story, and will either lead to reblogs or reposts

Behind the masks

Recap

OFFICIAL CHAPTERS

The Waterbottle Incident

(The Waterbottle Incident: alternate take)

Sidekick “fixes” Villain’s leg

Villain meets the chair

Sidekick visits Villain in his chair

Villain gets a hug

“Mascot” is revealed (The Talkshow)

Meet Vigilante and Henchwoman

The confrontation 

Sidekick and Villain: Guilt

Sidekick and Villain: The Escape

The “Comfort” fic

Sidekick’s punishment

Villain’s punishment (the choice)

 The Mayor’s Visit

 PRELUDE: Sidekick hiding in the closet

 The Final Straw: End of the captivity arc! 

 The Rescue! 

 The Rescue, pt. 2

 Interlude: Sidekick’s nightmare

 Interlude: Hero Finds Out

 The Reunion

 Clumsy caretaking: I’m here

 Ill-fitting (Villain’s haircut)

[hiatus]

Hero's peace mission

(FLASHBACKS)

 Villain in high school

Hero and Vigilante in High School

Aftermath: Hero and Vigilante fight

EXTRA

DIARY PROMPTS

Diary prompt: Villain

Diary prompt: Sidekick

Diary prompt: Hero

"Ada has a last name too, and it's Douglas"

MY ART

Sketches of main characters  (add link)

Sketches of Hench and Vigilante

Villain before and afer Hero (art)

Hero and a young Hero and Vigilante

All the masks and suits

Villain, comforted by anon (add link)

Hero getting his ass kicked (add link)

Villain simps come get yall’s juice (add link)

 Villain gets hugged: octopus (add link)

Villain gets hugged: anon (add link)

Villain gets hugged: Henchwoman (add link)

 Villain gets put in the chair (add link)

Sidekick hugs Villain

Hero grabbing Villain’s hair

Hero “comforting” Sidekick

Villain getting caretakered by Hench (add link)

Hero choking Villain

Villain’s new haircut (add link)

miss Jones (add link)

young Hero getting punched (add link)

Villain gets a flower

Meme: describe your story in one image

FANART (!!! holy shit i got fanart aaa)

Hero, by octopus-reactivated

Villain sketch, by whumpy-arts-and-crafts

Villain on the floor of his cell, and Hench and Vigilante, by whumpy-arts-and-crafts

Villain, by panic-whump (add link)

Sidekick having a nightmare by whumpy-arts-and-crafts

Draw the squad, by octopus-reactivated (add link)

Reunion hug, by whumpy-arts-and-crafts

ASK/TELL THE OCS ANYTHING (Titles in bold are longer responses that are plot-relevant or whumpy.)

Hench and the escape plan

Henchwoman is still alive

Villain, just hang on

Vigilante’s past with Hero

Hero is a bad person

Villain’s past with Hench

Hench: the worst Hero could do

Hero’s worst secret

What will Hero do? (Sneak peak: Meet The Mayor)

Going Tolkien on Hero

Hench’s feelings on Villain

Sidekick: Hero killed your parents

Villain dreams

Hench, did Villain ever help with homework?

HENCHWOMAN HURRY

What does/did Villain do to relax?

Villain before the Final Straw

Villain griefs

Flashback: How could you have let this happen?

Hench, do you miss him?

Villain, what would yo do if you were out?

Villain, my guy, Hench is alive

Hench, it’s not worth it

Hero, what if Sidekick died?

Villain beat up, Henchwoman caretaking (add link)

Hero’s favourite icecream

Sidekick, Hero is a monster

Villain, are you ready to meet William?

Sidekick gets icecream

Miss Jones thinks she sees Ethan

 young Hero makes excuses

BULLYING HERO HOUR (ask the OCs anything that got out of hand)

Hero is a coward

Hero gets called the true villain

Bootlicker (The Threat)

Hero gets punched

Hero delivers on his promise

Sidekick asks you to stop

The aftermath (1)

The aftermath 2: apology to Sidekick

Hero has had Enough (add link)

[goffilolo]

Listen, I know yall love Yuno and act like he’s the next best thing since sliced bread, but let’s get real for a second. Is the Neverland spell pussy popping? Absolutely, but Yuno has been riding along with a half-elf soul of an unborn fetus as a booster, and in whole honesty I WISH that the elf soul went away after Yuno discovered his original attribute, as like a narrative ‘you no longer need me, here’s your own power’. But no, instead Tabata keeps stacking up more power ups for him like he’s building the most over the top Lego tower and we all just have to live with it. So what’s actually going to happen is that I’m predicting Lucius will use his soul magic to fuck up Yuno and put his wind magic fetus soul in a time out, which will not only throw Yuno off his game, but also weaken him enough to be almost taken out, and then Asta will show up in last second to save his ass, as a direct parallel to Yuno saving him during the battle against Lucifero. And because Yuno is an Asta simp  first, and a human second he better look absolutely lovestruck and maybe cry a little while being held like a princess or I will riot.

[lexirambles]

Eyo, welcome to the second post of this blog 🎉🎉🎉🎉

The Undertale Yellow brainrot is SO bad that I’ve gone and made an UTY au. Wanna hear about it? Of course you do, who would you be here if you didn’t! If you don’t, then leave sucka, I’m here to FUCK!

So y’all know me, I’m a giant Ceroba fan, simp, and apologist. This fandom be shitting on her and I cannot STAND for this INJUSTICE! So, I sat down and thought “hey, how about we entertain that idea. What if Ceroba didn’t inject Kanako?” And it just spiraled into an entirely different universe of its own. So here we are, I’m way too deep, I’m just gonna dive in.

So, we all know the context, ye? Chujin is veeeeery dead, leaving Ceroba and Kanako to pick up the pieces of his work. This time, when Kanako offers herself as the boss monster vessel, Ceroba denies, not wanting to risk the only family she has left and wanting to respect Chujin’s last wishes. Kanako is upset by this, even staring an arguement between the two and Kanako even trying to steal the vile, but who can blame them in such a tense situation. One thing that’s bothered me on this whole argument is that Kanako was manipulated into her decision, or didn’t understand what she was doing, when she clearly did. She saw the consequences first hand, it look her father for crying out loud, she knew it could take her as well. Adolescents are reckless, and will fight like hell to get what they want, especially if they strongly believe in it. I think Kanako is far older and more mature then we think, I personally enturpret her as 15 or 16 at the time of her falling down. I don’t see no striped shirt on that kit!

So now what are we left with? They can’t just go find another boss monsters, they’re very rare, and most don’t even know if they are apart of that minority. So, we got two options; Asgore or Toriel. No way in HELL Toriel would agree, and I don’t think anyone even knows where Toriel went to. So we have Asgore. Wheeler he goes along with it or not is… debatable. He wants the best for his subjects, and would do anything to get out of this one sided war with humans. But this isn’t an alternative to breaking the barrier, it’s a back up plan for if history repeats itself. It could save many monsters lives, but would Asgore trust her after the stunts Chujin pulled? Maybe he even feels guilty for what happened to him. For the sake of this au, he agrees, desperate and grieving just like the women in front of him. But we all know what happens to Kanako, so…

THE KING IS DEAD! Vive la révolution!

Ok, not really, he’s just fallen down. That’s now Alphys’ problem to deal with (I’m sorry gurl I love you). But now Ceroba is in hot, HOT water, for a few crimes like ✨attempted assassination✨, ✨regicide✨, and ✨treason✨! If you’ve ever seen Undyne in the neutral routes, then you know she’s one trigger happy fish that’s very loyal to Asgore, and ain’t the biggest fan of the iron gallos. She’d much rather do it with her own two hands. So before Ceroba can run, plead her case, or even fight back; she’s got a spear straight through the soul.

Kanako, obviously, ain’t so happy about this. Poor gurl just lost her dad, and now her mom is also very dead, right in front of her too. Ouch! So she reacts as you’d expect anyone to, and attacks Undyne back with quite the fierce fireball. Luckily, it’s not a DnD fireball, but it does serve as the reason she wears an eyepatch now. With her attacker blinded, Kanako makes a desperate run for it, not wanting to risk retaliation. Back at the Wild East, all she has is her mother’s staff and the mask she made to as evidence of what happened.

The Wild East is heavily shook by the news, every resident feels it, but Starlo is hurt especially hard. That was his best friend, perhaps someone he saw as more, someone he cared for deeply and devotedly. We saw Starlo is the flawed pacifist run, he don’t take this too well. But right now, he doesn’t care about what he thinks or feels. In front of him is a grieving now orphaned child who watched her own parents turned to dust, who he watched grow up and been by their side the whole time. So like he always does, he comforts her before anything else. For this AU, Starlo will be serving as Kanako’s guardian, since she has no parents now. The fandom has kinda agreed on that Starlo is Kanako’s honorary uncle, and he definitely has some strong dad energy he needs to unleash. So he’s going to be the one to step up and care for this poor child.

Starlo decides this is a pretty good chance to give her something; a hat just like his own. He even cut out holes for her ears, Ceroba always complained about how the way his hat made it hard to hear and folded her ears in uncomfortable matters. He wants to share his passion of western culture with Kanako, to pass on what helped comfort him. Though he is very unaware that escapism is a very self destructive coping mechanism, and has just damned Kanako to become worse; whoops! He even offers to teach her gunslinging and give her lassons when she’s older. There’s a solum comfort in the promise of future, something to look forward to, a goal to achieve. And so, Kanako latches into it, and holds onto it for dear life.

Years go by, Kanako has grown up, and the 6th human falls. Kanako has shown to be a natural at wielding a gun, but ends up falling back on her natural magical abilities. Starlo offered for her to join the feisty five, maybe even become deputy, but she refuses. Instead, she adapts the persona of a bounty hunter, a lawless predator that only abides by the count of coin under her victim’s wanted poster. I really want to give her a cool alter ego name like North Star does, but I don’t have any ideas on what a good name for her would be. So if you guys have any cool names for her, I’d really appreciate it! Nonetheless, she joins in on Starlo’s western fantasies, relishing in the role as the villain. The classic self righteous vigilante sherif VS the aloof bounty hunter just getting paid. She embraced their role as some Saturday cartoon bad guy, tying damsels to train tracks and robbing banks, shooting the good guy all “this town ain’t big enough for the both of us,” style. It’s a performance, a chance for her to be someone else. The bounty hunter isn’t a lost, confused, and traumatized child who had her parents and childhood ripped away from her claws right in front of her, but a powerful and respected foe people can be scared of.

How would Kanako interact with Clover and the gang, I don’t really know yet. I’m imagining Starlo instructing her to sabotage the trials he sets up for Clover as a way to cause drama and challenge his soon to be deputy, while playing none the wiser to the posse, but that’s all I really got. What I’m more interested in is her dynamic with Martlet. Kanako isn’t a big fan of Royal guard for obvious reason, it’s a big reason why she takes on a bounty hunter role, their whole point is to give the law enforcers the middle finger. So when a blue bodied yellow eyed Royal Guardswomen rolls up into town, she’s going to be pretty heavily reminded of her late mother’s executioner. You can’t have a hunter without the hunted, and fittingly enough, foxes are known to hunt many kinds of birds; from small songbirds to juvenile birds of prey, but usually just the eggs. It would be a good reason for Martlet to be in jail, she pulled a Ramsey Murdock and put herself in jail so she doesn’t join her cousin Berdly in the grocery isle as fried chicken.

So, to end things off, why does this Au exist. For a lot of reasons, but it’s mainly to show the point of Ceroba’s and Kanako’s role in the story. They are both left doomed by the narrative, whether she gets injected or not. It doesn’t matter who lived or who died, the survivor is left no better then dead wishing it was them instead. The point of Kanako is to be a tragedy, to show what happens to many families, the inevitability of death and how grief can tear someone apart. If Kanako is the sacrificial lamp, someone else has to be. Inversely, if Ceroba isn’t there to be the the consequence of that sacrifice, someone else will have to. It doesn’t matter what choice Ceroba made on injecting her daughter, she was doomed to a fate worse than death, whether through amalgamation or orphaning. But it’s also meant to be a commentary on the nature of Undertale Yellow’s main theme; Justice. In my mind, and the way Kanako sees it, blind justice doesn’t exist. Yeah, there’s moral things everyone can say “that’s pretty wrong,” but at the end of the day, justice is self serving. Every person’s moral compass and what they believe is right and wrong is different, and so the Justice they enforce exists to push their own agenda. Clover in one timeline will sacrifice their soul to give monsters justice, while in another killing every monster that moves is delivering justice for the crime of the other children’s deaths. Did Ceroba deserve execution for what she did even if it was an accident, is it just of Kanako to mercilessly slaughter a child for the sake of the underground? That question doesn’t matter to her, all that matters in justice. Anyway, have adult Kanako in a cowboy hat, I’ll finalize her design for this AU one day…

[giggly-squiggily]

Since I’m absolutely losing my mind simping for him, here’s some ler Kurama HCS!

Ler Kurama who chuckles sweetly as he tickles someone.

Ler Kurama who says “now, now, no trying to hide from me. You’re quite cute when you’re laughing like this.” When his lee hides their face.

Ler Kurama who is so evil with anticipation. He’ll wiggle his fingers above their tickle spots until they’re curling in on themselves and whining for it to either A) stop or B) start already

Ler Kurama who likes to tickle Yusuke as a stress reliever (and let’s be real, Yusuke doesn’t much mind it either)

Ler Kurama who inadvertently follows the “ler goes for their own death spot first” rule and always goes for Yusuke’s legs when he starts.

Ler Kurama who somehow cannot be caught and having the tables turned on him (except for Hiei bc they’re about equal in strength)

Ler Kurama who ALWAYS wins tickle “fights”

Ler Kurama who sneaks a vine to wiggle against Kuwabara and Yusuke’s sides when they’re bickering in public. “Not now, you two. Remember where we are.”

Ler Kurama who is somehow the biggest instigator of chaos amongst the four of them??? If the two humans even put so much as a toe out of line, he looks at Hiei and the two nod in complete understanding.

Ler Kurama whose teases are so freaking evil even though he’s got that serious tone. “Aww, you’re quite amusing. Now, what happens if I were to try here? Or here? Oh, dear. That one seemed to really start you up. Perhaps I’ll stay here for a minute.” (EVIL)

Ler Kurama who has a LOOK that tells Yusuke and Kuwabara that he’s not goofing around and he will not hesitate to wreck them right there.

Ler Kurama who constantly checks in on his lees to make sure they’re comfortable and not in pain. He stops as soon as they’re ready, and never wants to push them too far.

Ler Kurama who gets caught up in the fascination of tickling the boys more often than not. “The human body is so intriguing.”

Ler Kurama who tenses when Hiei places his hands on his thighs with a menacing grin. “It sure is, Suichi. Why don’t we discover if the great Kurama shares the same weakness as these two hooligans.”

Ler Kurama who finally gets paid his due…

JWJSJWJSJKWKSKSKSMS AHHHHHH 😍😍😍😍😍😍 DUCKY THESE ARE MAGNIFICENT!!! I personally headcanon Kurama to be such a ler, so these are MAJESTIC!!! 🥰🥰🥰 Thank you for sharing!

Because you’ve gifted me such a delightful set of Ler headcanons, and because you’ve ended on such a great transition; allow me to provide some Lee!Kurama in return…

Lee!Kurama who’s laugh is so soft and prince like and will be damned if that changes.

Lee!Kurama who breaks near instantly the second someone touches his knees/the terrible spot beneath his thighs.

Lee!Kurama who covers his face when laughing and struggles to remain composed cause it tickles like crazy and he doesn’t wanna kick anyone in the face ajznnans

Lee!Kurama who also has a ticklish neck- soon discovered by Yusuke who wanted to see where he hid his rose in a hair.

Lee!Kurama who can tease like nobody’s business but if you call him a “cute little fox” he gets beyond flustered, cheeks red and unable to make eye contact (Don’t even get me STARTED if you sing-tease at him)

Lee!Kurama who was the untouchable tickle monster until Hiei finally figured out what tickling was (I headcanon he isn’t all that familiar with it until he spends a good amount of time with the boys) or Yusuke and Kuwabara teamed up. Now he’s got somewhat of a challenge to deal with.

Lee!Kurama who’s ears are so sensitive he can’t stand someone blowing air against them (*cough*Hiei*cough* *cough*Yusuke*cough*) If you puff even slightly he’ll squeak and get all giggly and just- Ahh!

Lee!Kurama who’s more sensitive to firmer tickles along his thighs and legs. Hiei once squeezed the ever loving hell out of his knee to try and make him wince only to earn a series of snickery laughs and yelps.

Lee!Kurama who loves tickles cause he doesn’t get them all that often and it feels nice cause it’s a change up from the daily grind of bruises and wounds ala battles or whatever. He loves how close they make him feel to whomever he’s tickling or being tickled by.

Those are the ones off the top of my head wjsjjwjsns but YEE KURAMA AHHHH! 😍😍😍😍😍