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landofzero-archive · 8 months

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Hiyori Tomoe - Games With Old Friends

Writer: Suika

Season: Winter

(Location: Starmony Dorms Common Room)

Hiyori: Hm? Nagisa-kun, what are you doing over there?

Nagisa: …… I’m looking at the tabletop games on this shelf.

…… I got interested after listening to Yuuta-kun’s circle talk about it a little while back.

Hiyori: Ah, you’re talking about the ASOBI club? I’ve heard Jun-kun talk about it sometimes.

Since they left them in this common room, it means that anyone can play with these tabletop games, doesn’t it?

Nagisa: …… It seems to be what Yuuta-kun’s group intended by leaving them here.

Hiyori: In that case, Nagisa-kun, let’s play together! I just happen to be free right now!

Nagisa: …… Fufu, thank you Hiyori-kun. However, there’s a small problem.

Hiyori: What problem?

Nagisa: …… You need three or more players to play the games put out here. There’re not many games we can play with, since it’s just Hiyori-kun and I right now.

Hiyori: Then it’s just a matter of calling up someone else! I’ll contact Jun-kun immediately……

Is what I thought I’d do, but I think he’s away for a photoshoot today?

Nagisa: …… Mm. It seems that Ibara also has a pre scheduled meeting in ES today.

Hiyori: Well, since it’s work it can’t be helped. We’ll get them to hang out when they’re back.

Tsumugi: Oh my. What are you two doing with all those things spread out on the table?

Hiyori: Tsumugi-kun as well as Eichi-kun, you’ve come at an excellent time! We’re just looking for people with time to spare♪

Eichi: Hiyori-kun, even if this is a shared open space, you shouldn’t leave things all scattered about like that.

Hiyori: How rude! I haven’t made a mess!

Nagisa: …… I planned to play some games here with Hiyori-kun, but we’re a bit troubled since we don’t have enough people.

…… Do you two have any plans after this? If you’d like, how about playing together?

Eichi: Thank you for the invitation. However, I only meant to rest here for a bit before going back to work. Tsumugi is the same way too, right?

Tsumugi: Yes, but I’m okay with it.

I had some sudden work earlier today, but I somehow managed to finish it all by mid-morning.

I’ve just been working for a while, so this would be a nice change of pace♪

Hiyori: Fufu, then let’s play together, Tsumugi-kun. Look, come over here.

Nagisa: ……. What about you, Eichi-kun? If you’re busy with work, I won’t force you.

…… Yuta-kun said games are a lot more fun when there are more people to play with.

Eichi: …… Well, as Tsumugi-kun said, a little bit of it could be a nice change of pace.

Hiyori: You could have just earnestly said that you wanted to play.

Eichi: This and that are…… So this is a balancing game where you take away wooden blocks from the board, and the person who drops the board loses.

Nagisa: …… I know about the game where you put things down in turns, but for this one, you have to take them away, I see.

Tsumugi: It seems that what I heard about this game is true; this game needs quite a bit of preparation. I can’t seem to balance them on the board.

…… There. It seems that we managed to have the wooden blocks balanced on the board. Should we decide on the playing order now?

(Slight time skip)

Hiyori: Ahaha. The board fell down when it’s Eichi-kun’s turn, so this means it’s Eichi-kun’s loss.

Eichi: That move ruined the balance. It seems I miscalculated.

Nagisa: …… You need to consider the distance between the wooden blocks and the fulcrum, the shape and arrangement of the wooden blocks still left behind, before making the choice of which wooden block to take. This seems to be a game that requires one to use their head a lot more than I imagined.

Tsumugi: Yeah. The board tilts a lot whenever you take away a wooden block, so it makes my heart beat rapidly every single time.

Eichi: Yes. I’ve got a firm grasp on the balance between the wooden blocks and the board. Well then, shall we play again?

Hiyori: Hey, Tsumugi-kun. Is this small box another game we can play together?

Tsumugi: Yes. That’s a game where each player has to bring back treasure from the depths of the sea.The final rankings would be decided on the points of the treasures brought back.

It seems that since everyone is sharing the same oxygen tank, if even one person messes up, he will end up dragging everyone down and it’ll be game over.

Hiyori: So he said. It sounds a little difficult for someone greedy like you, right, Eichi-kun?

Eichi: That’s my line. If it’s a game that tests cooperation, wouldn’t it be a bad fit for Hiyori-kun?

Tsumugi: You two, let’s get along~

Eichi: Well then, do you want to play that game next?

Hiyori: Since we have so many games here, I thought it’ll be more fun if we play with a variety of them.

Nagisa: ………

Hiyori: Could it be that you already know this game, Nagisa-kun? Is there any other game you want to play?

Nagisa: …… No, that’s not it. I think I want to try playing this game too.

…… Sorry, I really enjoyed the balance game from just now, I wanted to play it one more time.

Hiyori: What, if that’s the case, you should have said that faster! Come on, Tsumugi-kun. Let’s get that game from earlier prepared one more time!

Tsumugi: Fufu, knowing that Nagisa-kun is enjoying it is making me happy too.

This is the game that Sora had told me he enjoyed♪ I’ll get it set up now.

Eichi: Ha…… You guys really are so free.

Hiyori: Good for you, Eichi-kun. You got your chance to get revenge on us.

Well, I’ll win the next round though♪

Eichi: …… Fufu, thank you. I’m looking forward to outwit Hiyori-kun starting from now♪

Don’t throw an unsightly tantrum just because you lost to me, okay?

(Location: Starmony Dorms Common Room (Evening))

Hiyori: Ahaha! You can have a lot of fun with commonfolk games too!

Nagisa: …… Mm. They have a charm that is completely different from chess and the likes. All the tabletop games were brimming with humour and were deeply interesting.

Eichi: Though, it takes up a lot more time than expected.

Tsumugi: I’m sorry, Eichi-kun. Everyone had so much fun, that I even lost track of time on when to stop playing.

Eichi: No, you don’t have to apologise, Tsumugi. I accompanied you for this long because I enjoyed myself too.

Hiyori: Mmhm. You should thank Nagisa-kun and I; who had invited you!

Eichi: I don’t really feel like thanking Hiyori-kun.

Hiyori: We’ve played quite a bit, but there are a few that we haven’t tried yet. We really can’t not call Jun-kun to come with us the next time we play.

Nagisa: ……I’ll try asking Ibara too.

Tsumugi: Seems like it’ll be a huge group. Then, I’ll ask Sora-kun if there is a game that can be enjoyed together by a lot of people.

Can I join you again when the time comes?

Hiyori: Of course. Better yet, let’s hold a game tournament in Starmony Dorms. That’ll be good weather……☆

Nagisa: …… Each individual has their own style of thinking. Rather than playing with just one person all the time, playing with a lot of people might serve to widen your range of strategy.

Eichi: I see. It’s a good idea for something like recreation.

It might be a good idea to take videos of idols on their days off to distribute them.

It just so happens that I was in the middle of formulating the details of my next project. I thought I should connect this to the plan.

Hiyori: Eichi-kun always likes to fill the gap in his free time with work. That’s just like Ibara.

But, I’ll forgive you. When the time comes, make sure to capture my gallant figure in the video♪

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TL NOTES:

A nice little easter egg in the title; the title has a kanji in reference to the ‘ex’ in ex-fine. However, since ‘ex-friends’ does not entirely convey the dynamic between these characters, Mod decided to go with ‘old friends’.

Mod went on a little rabbit hole of tabletop games categorization on the internet due to this story. The games played in this story seem to be Bamboleo and Deep Sea Adventure.

#ensemble stars #enstars #enstars translation #nagisa ran #hiyori tomoe #eichi tenshouin #tsumugi aoba #era: !!#type: idol story

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sugarakis-p2 · 1 year

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Date with a devil

You finally give the man-child from your online game streaming team a chance to buy you a drink. Just when the date from hell is going well, he kidnaps you and uses your body mercilessly. Leaving your head spinning, your heart and nether aching for more.

Warning: Non-Con, Shigaraki Tomura x plus size Reader, Bondage and Discipline, Rope Bondage, Non-Consensual Bondage, Kidnapping, Rough Sex, Rough Oral Sex, Non-Consensual Oral Sex, Vag Fingering, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Size Kink, Large Cock, Large Breasts, Drinking, Cussing, Light BDSM

You nervously fidget as you wait for your date to arrive.

You sigh, grab your purse, getting up to leave for the sixth time that night. You were already feeling iffy about this date, to begin with. You met him on a game chat. He was polite at first. Overly polite and well-spoken. You thought he might be a dad in his forties. Then later, he started with the serious game lingo. Soon he was a regular on your channel, finding the best gear and creating some of your most popular content when he threw his ominous tantrums. Sometimes they are aimed at you when he wants to be the lead on missions, and you make the call to have some of the other content creators get footage.

A year of flirting later, he had finally asked you out for a drink. But this was Tenfingerdeathpunch. He wasn't smooth, and he definitely wasn't pleasant. It had been a while since you went on a date. You gained weight as you got older and are an American. Men weren't beating down your door, and he was a lot more brazen when you two were alone. Flirting so hard the thought of it makes you blush. He sends you pictures of his torso. Each one has been steadily creeping lower and lower. You both always wore masks when it was video feed. Only he also distorted his voice and created a fake background. You chuckle to yourself when you remember the time a meme was made from one of his tantrums using an old cartoon character called Skeletor. We wore that mask quite often. Honestly, it has paid the bills more than once. It also showed he had a sense of humor.

Ten was also creepy, threatening, and sounded like a little incel man baby. You didn't ask for those pics. He sent them to you because you lost your cool and started insulting his appearance and anything else you could think of that would hurt. You were not expecting a pic of his pretty abdomen, and the tip of the outline of what you have to assume is a monster cock. Ten, who could not read a room, immediately caught onto your eep.

"Oh, you like it?" You could hear his smirk.

"No, I don't. Shut up. I'm going to have to cut all this footage. Neither of us looks good," you sneered.

"That's not true. You think I look good," Ten mocked. You hung up on him. Since then, he has been hinting at things but asked genuinely a few days ago. You look in the mirror at the back of the bar and knaw at your lips in worry. Make that you gained a lot of weight. Your chest is so big you have only seen the tops your toes for years now, and they are brushing the tabletop. This little round booth is not doing you any favors, you take up most of the space, and it will be too intimate. You both have yet to see each other. You can still make a getaway.

"Toughgirlsheart?" A voice rasped. You look up to see a slender young man with light blue hair shadowing his bright red smoldering eyes, surrounded by scars and scratch marks. Same with his neck, his lips dry and cracked. His clothes are clean but a bit ill-fitting and ragged at the edges. You instantly know why he only sent you a pic of his shirtless torso. You're not going to lie. The scars are jarring when you first see them. But he has a nice body. Your cheeks heat when you combine that mental picture of his abs with his handsome face hidden under the scars.

"Y-yeah. Ten?" You answer. A grin tugs at the corner of his lips.

"You are even prettier than I imagined. Let me buy you a drink," Ten said sweetly, raising his hand to call the bartender over, while staring intensely at your chest and lips. You narrow your eyes.

"Brazen as ever, Ten," You say, rolling your eyes.

"Two six fingers of Pappy's on the rocks," he ordered. The bartender paled, taking in Ten's appearance and his ragged clothing.

"Sir, that is rather exspen-," The bartender said when Ten sighed and pulled out a platinum diamond card. Oh my god, he was loaded. No wonder he was such a brat. The bartender goes to get your order while you snap your mouth shut.

"I get less picky the more I drink, but I'm not going to let our first date start with cheap trash," Ten said. Spoken like a true alcoholic. When your order came, There was no doubt in your mind. You both liked to drink, at least, his eyes never moving from your chest.

"My face is up here" You hiss. His crimson eyes dart up and he smirks.

"I didn't think I had to play meek with you. Aren't you American? Aren't you made of tougher stuff? I was hoping you could handle me. Especially now that I can see how damn hot you are."

He's so smug and sounded annoyed having to tell you how hot you are. You don't know if he's being sincere or sarcastic. You take a sip of your drink and decide to stay for the drink, at least.

"Oh, my god. This tastes like worship," you gasp in delight.

"Dark smooth smokey tones. The best part is it's 92 proof," Ten grinned. You start talking about drinks. He was charming. Talking about gaming for hours. Drinking the entire time. You deeply regretted sticking around later when you both started getting tipsy. But grateful you stuck to your gamer names. You don't want this brat doxxing you if he decides to throw a trantrum.

"Why did you put in Dreamcaster1995? He's weak when it comes to dungeons. He is much better with pvp. He's a pussy, and everything about him sucks," Ten snarled, scratching his neck. You rolled your head back in exasperated drunk melodramatics.

"This fucking guy," you slurred before pointing your finger at him. You really want to jab his demon eye out at this moment, so this will have to do, "Look. Of course, you would have been better."

"If you knew that, then why him?"

"Part of being a good leader is trusting your team and helping them too. It can't all be about you. Of course, you would have been better, but he has a channel and has helped me in the past. Plus, there is no doubt he would succeed, and watching people struggle a little makes for interesting content too. As a team member you have to help people achieve there goals. Seriously, did you invite me out to harp on this some more?" You lectured.

You are about to get up and leave when his hand shoots out, wrapping four fingers around your wrist. You want to slap him, stopping when you notice he is listening. You could see the gears locking into place as he came to an epiphany. A strange horrid grin splits his expression.

"You're right. You're so right. Please, don't go. Let me buy you another drink. I like talking to you. This is nice," Ten said, vulnerable. A single finger scratched at his neck. His eyes hooded with sincere gratitude. He looked beautiful. You let him pull you close. The side of your breasts presses against his hard chest as he whispers in your ear. Divulging a little secret to keep you there.

"I asked you out because no one else kept me on their team. You are always so patient and buttery sweet with a sharp tongue. A perfect balance of a leader and I admire that. I wanted to learn from you. That's the original reason. But now I really want to bury myself in you. I meant it all the way. I was hoping you could handle me," He rasped, licking your ear and pulling your hand to touch the monster bulge pressing against your thick thigh.

He was not being sarcastic earlier. If that cock was an indicator, he was definitely attracted to you. That thing was much bigger than you thought, and heat prickled over your skin as you lightly squeezed to be sure it was not his leg. How does he have enough blood for that thing? You wondered. A needy, sad part of you really wanted to feel him inside you. Your quirk made you crave, mostly alcohol but there's other ways to get drunk.

"You're disgusting," you breathe back. No real bite to your words, and he grinned.

"Yeah. But not to you. Your skin is hot and flushed with the liquor. That blush over your tits is driving me wild," Ten growled. Pinching on your nipple, pressing a sloppy kiss against your lips. You don't know what it was, but you do not pull away. You let him grope and kiss until you notice people are watching and feel shy.

"Ten, this is embarrassing. People are staring," you mumble against his mouth. He pulled away abruptly.

" IS it that embarrassing to be seen with me?" He seethed.

"What? No. I just don't want strangers staring at me like I'm a fat slut," you snapped back. He really knew how to get under your skin.

"A. Fat. Slut," he repeated slowly and smiled, "You're so fucking cute. You are tempting me to do terrible things. I heard that the bigger the girl tighter the cunt. I don't have to be gentle with you, do I, tough girl?"

He pounced on you and left you breathless before you could answer his disgusting question. He is much quicker than you expected. His kisses quickly adapted to get better and more passionate. His tongue entwining and playing with yours like a controller. They are still wet but not drowning. You are about ready to take this back to your place. When some pro hero sidekicks walk in to relax after work. Ten pulls his hood up and leans in.

"So. How many do you think you can take?" He asks quietly. You laugh and then stop because he is not joking. Alright. At a certain point, it doesn't matter how big your cock is. Crazy murder talk should be a line. You are about to tell him it's getting late when his face hardens as he spots someone in the mirror, "I'm going to pay the bill. Stay here."

He darted away before you could even answer. Leaving you panting and fanning yourself. He's as aggressive as you thought he would be and you did not mind that part at all. Sometimes you wonder if your quirk makes you thirsty for more than liquor. You see, Ten is talking to some girl. A perky little blonde who looked like she was gushing at him. He said something to her and followed her outside. Your heart plummeted into your gut. Of course, he would run off with a young tiny thing. You finish your drink when he pops up in front of you. Startling you, damn he's fast you think.

"We're going now," he snapped.

"Yes, I am," you tell him, obviously irked, when he flashes you your car keys. The stern look in his eyes is all the warning you need. You follow him to your SUV. Heart racing that he stole your keys and knows which car is yours. A big red flag in your book. The thing had a giant sponsor sticker on the side. Ten would defiantly recognize it, but this was too much. You are making excuses for his bad behavior like this was normal. Your instincts told you that you did not want to get into a confined space with him.

"I can't drive. I'm too drunk," You say quickly as Ten opens your door.

"Tsk. We both know your quirk works best when you're drunk," he growls, tossing your keys at you. You catch them quickly. He knows your reflexes are inhumanly sharp the more you drink. It gives you the edge when gaming, "At least your body is honest. I would not ask for a ride. But an acquaintance is in trouble, and the person who dropped me off is not picking up his cell."

You must have lost your mind. You're really getting in the car with him. But it really sounded like his friend was in trouble. The kind that if you call the cops, they will only make it worse. He looked so sincere too. He's a spoiled rich boy who doesn't understand how many social rules he breaks or more likely doesn't care. You mentally write it off as another thing not to like about Ten. That doesn't mean you can't help or be better.

"You owe me," you huffed. You hop into the driver's seat. Ten already programmed an address into the gps. It's another private bar you never heard of. It looked very exclusive. You become embarrassed. You assumed he was running off with that girl or trying to get you help chase her. She must have come and told him about his sponsee, she looked way to young to drink. It's not unusual for heavy drinkers to be sponsors and sponsee's for alcoholics anonymous. There was a long awkward silence as you drove.

"So, you're stalking me?" you asked. Not fully sincere. Ten took it seriously and snorted.

"That's rich. You post everything on social media. Is it really stalking if you admire someone and they invite you? Besides, what if you were a serial killer? I have met plenty of crazy women," He rasped. You thought you heard a thud from the trunk. It was probably energy drinks tipping over, you think and forget about it. You want to forget about this whole date and ignored his snide comment.

"I watched you win the 55-boss tournament wasted. I noticed you never live stream, and you slurred in chat more than once. I also noticed your baggy hoodies stretched out in the chest, and you played better drunk. I had my suspicions about you. It's part of the reason why my acquaintances are in trouble. Do me a favor and wait for me. I need to grab someone from inside," he says cryptically. As you park with a sigh. This guy can send you on a roller coaster of hate and lust. It was getting exhausting.

"Why did you throw my tits in the mix? Nevermind, that's just a Ten thing. You know you don't come off as the cuddliest. You're downright prickly. But you are also surprisingly caring, so I will wait," you say honestly. Ten is on you again, your reflexes are more than fast enough to block him, but your arms are weak, and you don't mind he is leaving you breathless. This was the best yet. You shuddered, and your toes curled.

"I am glad you are being candid. I prefer the authentic you. You're fast but not strong. I like that. Don't look in the trunk," Ten purrs.

"What?" You asked his retreating figure as he went into the building. You suddenly had a creeping suspicion about the thud you heard earlier as more time passed. You check to see if there is anyone else around. Your heart is pounding as you step out and walk to the back suv. Ten had to be just messing with you. He wouldn't be crazy enough to put something in your trunk, would he? You pop the trunk to have a blonde, bubbly girl launch herself at you with a knife. She would have plunged that thing right into your eye if you hadn't dodged. It was damn close when she fell on you.

"You are so cute. I couldn't help myself. It's Tomura-kun's fault. He had to be so mysterious about his type. I see he likes them thick and busty, or he could have been boring and meant your personality. You really gave him a taste for fame. All he ever talks about is his headlines, meme's made from him, and this date he's going on with this adorable gamer girl," The blonde psycho giggles.

"Get off me!" You scream.

"Toga! Get off her. Kurogiri quickly. Charge your damn phone next time," Ten hissed.

"I was just keeping her from escaping," Toga whined.

You woke up in some strange room tied to a bed. Spread eagle. Some horrible man with half his face that looks like a scab is fondling your breast. You screamed, and he smiled. It sent a violent chill down your spine that you choked on your screams.

"Master. This is just rude. I know I asked to borrow your power. I'm grateful, but she is mine," Ten rasped.

"I wanted a little fun. It's so rare when I meet new people. I like buxom sweet girls." He grins to Ten and leans in to talk to you, "It is a very straightforward quirk. Betray me or any member of the League of Villains, and you will go boom." The scab said, showing you a video of that exact thing happening to people. You believe him. You believe him so much you burst into body-racking sobs.

"You can let the girl go to her new home. She won't be talking," All for one said, leaving with his travel life support. Ten waited and then shooed away the shady guy in the room. The man looked like he was made of clouds when he wisped away, leaving you with Ten. He cleaned your face and waited for you to stop crying.

"Breathe, baby. You're a tough girl, remember. I really was trying to help you. I didn't want you to meet Toga. She can be a bit obsessive and stabby. You inspired me, so I was trying to protect you. I was hoping I could trust you. You just had to go and be a bad girl, though. Right after we were having fun," He rasped with a glare. Reaching out his hand to untie you, his glare burned into you with an intensity that was more infuriating than anything he had done up until that point.

"You repulsive ghoul! Your sinister smile makes me sick. I know for certain that nobody enjoys being around a creep like you - least of all me," you sneered at him. He paused, pulled his hand back, and scratched at his neck.

"No. No. No. That was all you. You wanted me. You felt something for me. I know it. Quit denying it, or I'll make your body tell the truth once more. Your body was truthful. It's screaming out for me even now," he growled. He kissed you deep and roughly. Becoming frustrated when he didn't get a response. His nails tearing into his delicate pale flesh, "This worked before. I know it did."

"Not every lady gets a slobbering pussy from a little nipple play and a make-out session. The whole world isn't a hentai or eroge, creep," you scoffed. You wish you could kick him.

"Oh. If that's true, I can take it to the next level, right? After all, you were dishonest and disobeyed. All of this is really your fault. I was happy with some kissing. I was going to let you go if you had just followed a simple rule of trust. I would have taken my time with you and let things build slowly. A few more dates, more pvp. Allow you to get used to what I'm about to do to you. But you made this personal." His fingers playing with your panty line under your skirt. Your body betrays you with a pathetic squeal and jerks towards his fingers when he brushes your clit over your panties. You wished the world would open and swallow you as he grinned triumphantly.

"Your panties are soaked. Although it's grown cold. Let's see if I can get that slobbering pussy you mentioned," Ten chuckled. You shake your head violently back and forth. This was torturously good, and you didn't want to give Ten any more satisfaction.

"I'm sorry, Ten. You're right. I was being dishonest. Let's stop. You win," you moan. Struggling against your restraints.

"But your pussy wants my attention," Ten purrs, licking two of his fingers, pulling your panties aside, and shoving them knuckle deep. You groaned and bucked against him. Oh god, you are so embarrassed and humiliated by yourself.

"No. You are the worst!" You wail.

"Careful. All five fingers will turn you to dust. Mmm. So wet and warm." He rubs and twists his fingers inside your body, working them in and out, trying to unlock your secrets. Parting your lips to stare at all of you. You squeal and try to close your legs to him.

"No more. I came already! You win. Game over," you pant and plea. He pulled his eyes away from the slick fold to narrow his eyes.

"You really know how to piss me off. Everything that comes out of your mouth is a lie. You are driving me insane. This pretty puss is blushing. This little bud it is hard and ripe for me to bite on. Your walls are gripping my fingers. Sucking me in like the greedy little slut you are for me. Oh, right, there is the spot. You got tighter and wetter. Right. Here," He smirked.

His fingers work harder on your sweet spot, making your back arch. Ten looks down at you with hunger in his eyes. His tongue traces a slow, sensual path up your inner thigh. He lightly parts your outer lips again, two fingers lightly pinching your clit and spreading again, making you shiver with anticipation. He buries his face between your legs, and his fingers slowly plunge into your body, heating your core as his tongue lathes over your clit.

"Fuck. I thought you might be tangy, but you smell like soap and taste like nothing. Did you prepare yourself for me before the date even started?" He chuckled.

"You gross me out," you gasp.

Ten fiercely nipped your clit for that, sending a spark of pleasure through your body. Your hips involuntarily buck against his face as Ten lightly sucks and kisses your clit, intensifying the pleasure coursing through you. Your breath quickens as the intensity of the sensations overwhelms you. He can feel your arousal intensifying with each passing second, and he moves his tongue in circles around your clit. His tongue flicks faster and faster, bringing you to the brink of ecstasy when he abruptly pulls away. Leaving you with no stimulation and feeling hollow inside. You whimper at the loss of his digits. Ten looms over you, his face glistening with your juices as he grins down, inches from your lips. You can hear his pants unzip. He wipes his face, his tongue slurping his fingers before it reaches between your legs. Tearing your panties away with one harsh jerk. You can feel him jerking his length over your throbbing crotch.

"Now that is a slobbering pussy. You even managed to moisten my lips. But I gross you out. Maybe I should just stop here. What's with the sad look, tough girl? I thought I grossed you out. But it really looks like you want more. Isn't this like in those boy-love mangas that you read? Being tied up and giving control to a man that makes you feel good? If you are honest with me, I will give you this," he says, smacking the head of his cock against your clit. You jerk and whimper, a wet swack with each swat of that hot thick thing.

"You were stalking me. No one knows what I have hidden under my bed," you pout. His crimson eyes bore into you so intensely with an expression you could not read. It sent a shiver of fear down your spine.

"I had Toga gather information. She is very skilled at it. I didn't know the closer she got to you, the more she would want to kill you. I couldn't have that. We have been having some team bonding issues, and I didn't know that part about her quirk until later. You inspired me tonight, though. I invited you for a drink because I guessed right about your quirk. I originally tried to get you here, but you were not having that. See where being stubborn and defiant got you? If you had just given in and had been honest, none of this would have happened. Imagine my surprise when I saw you all dolled up, with a clean, freshly shaven pussy ready for me, considering how disgusting I am," he mocked.

"You really like hearing your own voice. Please, finish and let me go," This is the closest to begging you will do. None of this would have happened to your ass. Ten has always been the kind of guy that will do something fucked up and blame it on the victim. He saw a flicker of emotion cross your face, one that displeased him. His features hardened, and his gaze narrowed menacingly, causing you to stay silent and avert your eyes.

"Your right. I much rather hear your voice," He grinned wickedly. He shoves his face between your legs, pressing his lips to your swollen, shaved lips, exploring your most intimate places with an eagerness that speaks of a deep craving. Ten's tongue dances and swirls, savoring the sweet nectar of your pleasure like a connoisseur of the finest delicacies. His hands move up and down, caressing you with a passion that is both tender and intense. As his mouth devours your essence, his hunger for you intensifies, and you can feel the intensity of his pleasure in every fiber of your being.

Your body trembles as your orgasm builds and finally devastates you. Quivers run through your body as the crescendo of pleasure crests and crashes, leaving her breathless. Ecstasy shivers through your veins, and you can't help but scream out in joy. His tongue continues to tease you until your crying and horse from the intense bliss it's painful. He's completely sated, then he pulls away, a satisfied grin tugging at his lips. He looks down at you with a satisfied smirk and contentment. You cry out in painful bliss, and surprise, he uses his thumbs to spread you open. His cock slipped from your tight wet hole. Hitting your clit, continues to rub himself over your hard nub, wave after wave of pleasure washes over you, driving you mad.

"Look at that little flower blossoming for me. I parted those petals nice and wide for me. I should have used three fingers; I'm almost four fingers wide. This might hurt you. My rosy little pussy is tight. You can handle it, though. Am I right, tough girl? Be honest," he hissed. Losing patience, he grasps your waist with one hand, gripping the head of his cock and pressing it harshly at your entrance, pushing his manhood firmly against your core. You gasp with pleasure as he presses in, your breath coming in shallow gasps.

"No. I can't. I can't handle it," you say truthfully and desperately. With one powerful thrust, you felt his searing heat fill you. You felt yourself being pushed to the brink of your limits, and the sensation was excruciatingly intense.

Ten groaned, folding over you as the pressure from your cunt caressed him. His lips crushed against yours, his grip on your waist tightening as his other hand gripped the back of your neck. He took your moans, each one boosting his ego more as pride swelled his chest. Being inside his tough girl was agonizing bliss for him too. You tried to raise herself, but the restraints kept you in place, and he kept thrusting, trying to bury himself deeper. His desire grew increasingly intense, and he growled in frustration as he pulled out. His eyes burned passionately, and he wanted nothing more than to stay inside and keep you close.

"Not yet," he said, his voice laced with desire. "Let's savor the moment. I really want to make you scream." He paused, then ran his tongue along his lower lip before giving her a knowing look. "Not me," he said, leaning in, taking your lower lip between his teeth in a gentle nibble.

"Please," you whimpered, desperately trying to move your hips, but his iron grip refused to let you go. You weren't sure if you were begging for more pain or pleasure, but you knew you had to try something. The thin straps of your dress snapped, and your bare breasts spilled free. His mouth immediately found your taunt nipple, his arousal-slicked hand reaching for his jacket pocket. You watched in horror as he pulled out your vibrator, the one you kept at home. What was he planning to do with it? He ruthlessly thrust the toy inside you, his mouth releasing your nipple with a wet pop. Your lips locked as teeth and tongues clashed against each other. You tried to turn your head from his kiss. Then you felt the sharp slap of his hand against the tender flesh of your cunt. Leaving a trail of burning pain to cool in the cold air. A warning growl in his throat, and you knew it was a warning not to push his buttons.

"I'm sorry…" You whispered against his lips, tracing his bottom lip with your tongue, "I just need you so badly. This is torture."

"Come on, tough girl; hold out for another twenty minutes. I need to stretch you out a little more," Ten growled, his voice low and tantalizing in your ear. His hands roamed your sides, sending shivers of pleasure through your body. He settled between your legs, the heat radiating off him. Throwing his head back, Your muscles clenched over his hot length, the warmth of you pulling him into the deepest depths, drawing him in inch by inch.

"Fuck, you're still so tight," he groaned, his breath hot against your neck. "Good girl. Take my cock. Not so tough now." He chuckled, pushing further until you felt like you'd be split in two.

"I wasn't tied up or had your cock inside me when I was being tough. Tough guy," you spat back. He responded with a sharp pinch to your nipple, causing you to yelp in pain. He did not like you talking back. His fingers trailed down your body, gripping and ripping your dress in two. The sound of fabric tearing was lost among the moans of pleasure that escaped your lips as he buried himself deep, to the hilt. His tongue pressed against your parted lips, and his hands roamed your body, making you squirm in fear. He moved his hips in a relentless rhythm, pushing you further and further until you were screaming in pleasure and stretched pain. He grips your thighs and drags his hands all over your body, making you squirm in fear from those hands. The dress was now nothing more than dust. You are left trembling with pleasure beneath him. It is confirmed he is op, and his quirk is deadly.

"Did you ever touch yourself?" He whispered, his breath hot on your skin as wet kisses pressed over your collarbone. "Toga says you saved those pictures of this, he mocked, pulling his shirt off. A gasp escaped you as you were left speechless. His teeth teased the sensitive skin of your nipples before twining his action on the other. His gaze locked with yours, his eyes smoldering with an unspoken question. "Did you ever touch yourself?" He asked again, his voice husky.

"You know I did..." your moans intensified as he increased his pace. His hands traveled up and down your body, exploring each of your curves. His thrusts became harder and faster as you felt your body trembling with pleasure. You through your head back, eyes rolling to the back of your skull, as you felt the waves of pleasure wash over you.

He let out a deep groan, his grip on you tightening as he moved faster and faster. His thrusts sent shock waves of pleasure through you, and you could feel the pressure building up inside you. You screamed his name, and he growled, "Good girl. Finally, honest."

He released the restraints with a single touch, pulling you up to him and wrapping his arms around your body. You gasped as he ran his hands up your sides, your skin tingling with anticipation.

"Can we keep my hands tied?" you asked, a hint of embarrassment in your voice.

He chuckled and nodded, a devious glint in his eyes. Taking the restraints, he tied your hands behind your back and pulled you close.

"You are mine," he growled, his breath hot on your skin. "Fuck me. Ride me hard, or I will be harsh with a new punishment."

He held you at the waist and the back of your neck, helping you to move faster and faster as you rode him. The sensation was intense, a pleasure that threatened to consume you entirely. You moaned and gasped as he drove you higher and higher, the tightness of the restraints intensifying the pleasure. Your pleasure was so intense that you couldn't help but cry out in ecstasy as he leaned back and drove up into you.

The showers of slippery suds, hands covering your breasts with a teasing peak of skin underneath. The dirty phone calls leaving little to the imagination, the small sounds of Ten believing he's on mute all led up to this moment. You came so hard on him he stopped and gritted his teeth in pain. You felt your body quiver and tremble as he pounded you, and you felt a wave of pleasure so intense it almost knocked you out.

He forced you back onto the bed, a menacing look in his eyes. He flipped you over. His hand pressing down at the back of your head, he drove himself into you, his other hand gripping your tied wrists. You felt the force of each thrust as he pounded you from behind. You screamed out his name as you felt yourself come undone, and he looked down at you with a satisfied grin. His soft hair clung to his sweating flesh, chest heaving as warmth spread deep inside you. He slowly moved in and out of you, drawing out his own pleasure, and you could feel the intensity of the desire slowly slipping away.

Exhausted and trembling, you collapsed onto the bed, and he kissed you softly on the forehead. He unties you gently, his touch surprisingly tender. He draws you into an embrace and holds you close, his body warm against yours. You never expected such tenderness from him after the sex, but you can't help but feel a sense of comfort and safety in his arms. He kisses your forehead and whispers sweet nothings in your ear, and you can't help but feel a rush of emotion. He may not seem like the type of guy to show such affection, but here he is, loving and caring, holding you close. Pulling out his phone to take pictures of you covered in his sweat and cum. Posing with you like a creep. You would call him that, but he fucked you stupid, and you need a break.

The smoky guy you assume is Kurogiri comes in with two glasses and a craft of juice. You squeal and try to cover your cum dripping pussy. Ten, however, didn't bother to cover up at all.

"Um, thank you," You squeaked to Kurogiri.

“Get out,” Ten snarled at Kurogiri.

Kurogiri bowed and quickly left the room, leaving behind a stack of warm, moist towels and two fluffy robes. You quickly grabbed one of the robes and covered yourself, blushing furiously.

"Um, thank you," You said, embarrassed.

Ten simply nodded in response, and you both began to dry off. He grabs a towel and yanks the robe away from you. He starts to clean your body. You squeak in fear and shrink from his touch. He stepped closer, his eyes blazing with intensity.

"You don't have to fear me," he snarled. "I know you won't turn on us. Not a word of this will ever cross your lips. You're going to be an invaluable asset. A real prime piece. I was always going to take you and use you. But you were such a brat I had to break you for your own good."

"Really?" You ask. Not daring to disobey as he pulls you in to continue to clean you up.

He stared at you with a crazed gleam in his eye, his voice a low growl. "Yeah. I admired your skills," he said, his lips curling into a sinister smirk. "You had a large following and helped gain me some anonymous notoriety." His eyes glinted with a maniacal intensity. "I was going to kidnap you and have you spread my message." He paused, a twisted grin spreading across his face. You cock your head at him.

"What you are saying is that you will give a place with free rent, electricity, wi-fi, and garbage removal to make some propaganda?" you asked.

"That was the idea. But now I might just keep screwing you. I will destroy the hero society one way or another," He chuckled. Laying back to play with your hair.

"No," you say firmly. "Sign me up for kidnapping. I'm dead serious. The world out there is harsh. Our government makes us feel like failures for being unable to afford their outrageous housing costs. I used to be able to play games for fun, but the day I started making it a job, it stopped being enjoyable. I spend so many hours editing and creating content just to pay the rent. My quirk will kill me if I keep having to use it to entertain others. So, if all I have to do is upload a 5-minute propaganda video each day in exchange for a roof over my head, then use me as much as you need. Ten, this is the only warning I'm going to give you. When you cross that line, it will become a job; destruction might lose its fun. When that happens, I wouldn't mind maybe dating. Doing it slowly, like you said."

He gazed intently at you, his eyes sparkling with emotion. His lips curled into a tender smile. His gaze was so intense it was almost tangible. You felt a rush of heat to your cheeks, and his words rang in your ears, "I can feel my heart already falling for you. By the way, call me Tomura."

You are standing in the bedroom, waiting for him, heart racing as you hear his footsteps coming closer. He stopped behind you, and I felt his strong hands gripping my hips tightly. His breath was hot on my neck as he leaned in and whispered, "You ready for this?"

You could only nod, unable to find the words to express your anticipation.

He started to move, pushing you down onto the bed. Letting out a gasp as he pressed his body against yours, his hardness pressing into you. He started to thrust, his movements becoming more and more forceful. You could feel your legs shake and tremble beneath him as he pushed harder and harder.

Your breathing becomes ragged and erratic as he continues, and you feel your body going limp. Lightheaded and drooling, your senses spun as he continued to fuck you roughly. Feeling your orgasm building, and just as it was about to crest, your whole body rocking in ecstasy, laying there, panting and trembling, trying to catch your breath. I had never felt so alive and so satisfied before. Tomura stopped and rolled off of you.

"WHAT THE FUCK!" You screamed as men burst in and snatched you from your comfy bed. Your heart raced in fear as you realized this wasn't the hero. It had to be the cops. You started to get nervous when Tomura disappeared after the yakuza thing. You had been discussing a lot of quirk singularity conspiracy theories and the Meta liberation message, touching on the heteromorph plight. You had plenty of heteromorph friends, but you never asked them what horrible things they had to deal with daily. You started to feel good about what you were doing for rent. You had no idea what this could be, but you had a sinking feeling it was the nutty eugenics religion.

They brought you before a skinny man. The man's voice was filled with contempt as he spoke, "You'll be working directly under me for the social media saturation. We are looking for young males and a heteromorph demographic. I've seen some of your work, and I must say, I was only mildly disappointed. He said he wanted to see you."

"He?"

"Yes, him," the thin man spat. "The leader. The boss. The man, I'm sure, only has malicious and depraved intentions for you. Brace yourself. Take her to him. The rest of us have real work to do."

Your heart raced as the door slammed shut behind you. You were thrust into a dark and mysterious chamber, the only sound of swords clashing and ringing off the walls. In the corner, you could make out the silhouette of a pale man in a bed. At the same time, a scaly, reptilian figure shouted for healing spells. You get closer to get a better look at the guy in the bed.

"Ten?" You ask timidly. Those red eyes land on you. A grin splits his mouth in two. Before you can escape, he grabs you and pulls you down to the bed, his lips pressing against yours in a passionate kiss. You can feel the intensity of his embrace, and you know you won't be leaving anytime soon.

"My tough girl," he purrs. Tomura's gaze was intense as he slowly moved his hands over your body, making your clothes turn to dust. He pulled you closer and ravished you before you could even say hello.

"Tomura!" you gasped in surprise as he kissed you hungrily.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't wait any longer," he said before continuing his passionate assault.

Your skin felt alive as his hands explored your body, and you soon forgot everything else.

"I should probably go," Spinner said with a rosy blush.

Tomura paused for a moment, and you both smiled. "This is my friend Spinner. Spinner, this is my girlfriend. She'll be doing your interview later. Right now, I'm going to fuck her brains out," Tomura mumbled around your nipple.

You covered your face and said it was nice to meet him, then Tomura resumed his passionate onslaught. You knew you'd never forget this moment. Ten grabbed your face and pulled you in for a passionate kiss. His tongue explored your mouth hungrily as if he hadn't tasted you in years. He pulled away, and you felt his hardness pressing against your lips, and you knew he wanted you as much as you wanted him. His salty flavor invades your mouth. He slowly pushed himself inside you. You gasped at the sensation, his thick girth filling your throat completely. You felt yourself start to tremble, and he held you tighter, his hands gripping your head as he thrust into you. He bucked his hips harder and faster, pushing you to the brink as he fucked your throat. You cried out in ecstasy as he drove deeper and deeper down your throat. He pulled away, his eyes burning with desire.

"Open wide," he said, his voice low and commanding. Finally, he let out a deep groan and slowed his movements. Shooting his hot load on your tongue. He reached around and snapped several pictures as he moved, capturing the moment's intensity before he let you swallow. You collapsed into his arms, exhausted and full.

"Be honest. That don't look in the trunk was a set up so you could doe this?" You asked. A knowing grin quirked his face.

"I love you," he whispered, his voice full of emotion. "I missed you so much. I'm not going to let you go. I'm going to fuck you so hard you won't be able to walk. I want to give you a pearl necklace."

You smiled up at him. He was as lewd and brazen as ever.

"I missed you too," you grinned.

#shigaraki tomura #shigaraki x reader #boku no hero academia tomura #shigaraki x y/n #bnha shigaraki #shigaraki x you #bnha tomura #yandere shigaraki #tomura x reader #tomura x you #alternate canon #bnha fanfiction #bnha smut #bnha lemon

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canmom · 1 month

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baldur gate

belatedly joining the bg3 train. I played BG1 when I was a kid but never got around to BG2. here are my observations:

the hair and skin rendering. good god. the rest of the game looks decent enough but they really went all out on the characters. I have to know what technique they're using for that hair there, it responds to light so well, and it can handle a variety of hair textures and stuff. ...look I know what a nerdy start this is this is literally my job ok ><

the character designer gives you four different types of penis to choose from, but there's no face customisation sliders, just a choice of about ten presets. i know this game is basically an eroge but still, lmao.

no body sliders in general actually. might need to look into mods because the bodies in this game are kinda weird. everyone's sorta uniformly ripped, I can't make my boobs smaller, etc. etc. (and of course the whole 'nobody can be fat' thing that has been commented on often). I think I need to get some mods.

mind flayer body horror stuff is tasty. that opening cutscene goes so hard. og Baldur's Gate games would have some fun in their cutscenes - I still remember the one with the blood flowing around the cobblestones - but a plane-hopping battle with multiple dragons and a big squid spaceship is setting the bar pretty high. look forward to seeing if the rest of the game can live up to it.

there's something wonderfully tabletop about the first two companions being... well. the first player I can imagine being like 'yeah so here is my lore-accurate gith, I learned the gith language and everything, I've written a thirty page backstory for her' and the second player is just 'yeah here's my elf, she's called... Shadowheart'. they shoulda made her a warlock (but it's lucky they didn't because then we'd have two warlocks)

the starting armour for those two companions looks absolutely shit. it looks like it's spraypainted plastic, especially since it's skinned in a way where rigid metal parts bend at the joints. just way too busy as designs. I need to find some better drip for these girls asap.

of course I played a warlock. I almost always play warlocks in D&D. it's such a chuuni class and there's a lot of conflict potential in the patron thing. also I hear this is a game where it pays to have good cha on the MC, which pretty much limits you to bard, sorc and lock. I hope they make patron interactions a thing in this game.

the implementation of 5e combat as a CRPG is pretty thorough! also, D&D combat works way better on the PC where you can resolve everything in five minutes than it does at the table. I put it on Tactician mode but so far it's been pretty trivial, I look forward to more interesting encounters down the line.

the d20 rolling UI is kinda ostentatious huh

overall, seems promising. that said this isn't a liveblog, probably. unless I run into something particularly interesting.

#computer games #baldur's gate 3

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shimmering-dragon · 9 months

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I'm Fictionkin-ish? Coining: Imagithrope.

@who-is-page and @frameacloud's panel at Othercon has gotten me thinking about writing essays about my own alterhuman experience... I was thinking maybe I should write something about why I write fiction, and how that relates to my own identity. But thinking about that made me realize that one of the reasons I write is because I identify as a fictional self-insert character that I created when I was a hatchling in make-believe games. Like, that's the way I view myself - not as a generic blue dragon, but as that specific character. Additionally, given that many of those games were based loosely in books I've read, it means that my identity is based in fiction as well. Though I don't identify as him, my name is even based on a fictional character's!

I've never really thought about calling myself fictionkin before now. When I joined the otherkin community initially, I had some bad reactions to talking about my identity in that way. And then some more bad reactions. My identity as a dragon is involuntary; I couldn't change it if I tried (and I have), and it isn't something I intentionally made into an identity. It's a bit of why I never really got why everyone insisted strongly on the distinction between otherkin and otherlinkers. Though I'm not opposed to the idea, I don't feel like my fictional identity was made by me channeling a past life either, which felt like it was the acceptable explanation for this back in 2016. Otherwise, creating a kintype wasn't "allowed."

For a while, I felt like I separated my identity into a dragon otherkin aspect, where I was just "a dragon", and had character me on the side as a fun thing - what I considered my "kinsona". But I think this is a false dichotomy. The two aren't really separable; who I am as a dragon was created through books and play. It wasn't really until @aestherians's posts in early 2021 - five years after I found the otherkin community - that I felt that the community had finally decided that the definitional line between kintype and linktype, voluntary and involuntary, didn't have to be such a strict line after all. (I'd been arguing that "involuntary identity" shouldn't be a part of the definition of otherkin for four years by that point, so yes, I'm still both smug and salty.)

So, though I didn't expect this to lead to me coining a new term when I started out writing out this post, I've decided to do it. I'm not sure if anyone except me is going to use it, but I think creating it as a concept gives it both a bit of legitimacy and permanence. I hope it will be of use to someone else, and if anyone else shares a similar experience, I welcome them to talk about it in more detail - at some point now, I think I definitely should describe mine.

Imagithrope - An alterhuman whose identity was created and/or formed, wholly or partially, through some form of imaginative play. This can include fantasy play, roleplay (tabletop, text, live action, etc), fanfiction, writing, art, and more.

#otherkin #fictionkin #2am ramblings

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catapparently · 12 days

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~The Glass Ballerina's Reputation~

CHAPTER 1- ...Ready for it?

AO3 LINK

Fic synopsis:

averyjameson!mafia AU

After Avery's mother's death, she is left with many questions. What happened to her mother's family? Who were they? Why did her mother never talk about them? Why did Jameson Winchester Hawthorne appear in her life? ...What is her mother's secret?

~~~

When Avery was a kid, her mom was constantly inventing games. Not your average games like Hide-And-Seek or Tag. They were always small tests, a competition. Once they’d played the Who-Can-Stack-The-Most-Pancakes or Who-Could-Build-The-Tallest-Tower-of-Cards. There was always something to find, something to figure out- something to fix or something to take apart. A challenge. The rush of excitement and the thrill that came with success is what made Avery feel alive.

The last game her mother had made for her was the Don’t-You-Dare-Miss-Me game, where she sent Avery on a challenge to find a mysterious item. It was the longest game yet, suspiciously so. When her mom gave her such complicated games, like that one time she made Avery an escape room, she’d leave little clues that would confirm she was on the right track. Yet this game had been completely devoid of all that. All she was told was to find “where the heart feels whole”.

There was only one possible answer to that. Home. Not their little apartment, no. The antique shop her mother owned, right under where they lived. That’s where they felt at home. Each of the little trinkets they received from donations or found had a story behind them. Sometimes, when she couldn’t sleep, Avery would sneak downstairs to the antique shop and try to guess the object’s history. Once they’d received one of those old vintage desks, the ones that had even more shelves on top of the tabletop itself, and a bunch of hidden compartments everywhere. It even had its very own built in gas lamp. She could vividly imagine the original owner sitting at it, working with a quill and a pot of ink, furrowing his brow in concentration or struggle. It was objects like these that had a meaning, that were valued and cherished. They had stories.

When she’d entered the shop, she didn’t find any clue to indicate she was on the right track. The place had felt strange without her mother there ever since she’d been hospitalized.

Avery searched high and low. Nothing. Finally, she went to a relatively small room behind the counter and pushed open the door. There was a fireplace. It had been there ever since her mom had rented this place, but it didn’t work. Sometimes they’d bring chairs and sit around it, pretending it worked. Their home. That’s when her mom told her stories about who she was before she had Avery. About Ricky. About a secret lover. Not once did she ever mention her family.

For Avery, home was where her mom was. Family.

She immediately noticed that one of the wood planks of the flooring was askew. She slipped her fingers beneath it, blindly feeling around for something. Sure enough, she felt it. A paper with a phone number. Libby Grambs, it read, above the string of numbers.

By the time Avery made it back to the hospital, the heart monitor wasn’t beeping with that annoying yet reassuring ding. The bleak room was even more uneasily silent, devoid of life.

It was at that moment that Avery decided to never play again.

“I thought you promised to stay away from him, Lib.”

Avery was tired of watching Libby dust the antique shop over and over again, hobbling around with her black eye and bumping into everything. There were two things Libby always did when she had something on her mind- she either bakes a bunch of cupcakes that Avery would have no choice but stuff herself with later or dusts the antique shop until even the antiques themselves looked brand new.

“I couldn’t help it, Ave. He… he called me and said sorry and that he wanted to meet up.”

Avery rolled her eyes and tapped on the cash register in anger, though holding back from crushing the keys. They definitely couldn’t afford another one unless one of them suddenly married some rich man.

It was always the same story. Libby did or said something Drake didn’t like. Then he’d hit her. Only once, but it was already too much. Then he’d apologize and do his usual speech, and Libby would forgive him.

“This is the seventh time you’ve broken up with him,” she spat at her sister. “Make it be the last.”

Libby nearly knocked over another vintage jewelry box. “I can’t help it.” She ducked down to steady the box, probably already thinking about what types of cupcakes she was going to bake this time.

“How about you go and flip the OPEN sign outside? We should close up. I doubt we’re going to get any more customers at this hour.”

Libby nodded and went to the front door. Just as she was going out, she slammed straight into a man who had just opened the door to come inside.

“Oh my gosh I am so sorry I didn’t mean to–”

Avery glanced over while her sister started rambling away. A man with ashy brown hair and a cowboy hat was helping her sister up in a gentlemanly manner. He had matching cowboy boots, too. He looked… quite odd, honestly. Dressed as both a cowboy and in a fancy way at once. She couldn’t tell if he was some rich guy mocking cowboys or just a desperate wannabe. His skin glowed a beautiful tan, though Avery was skeptical as to whether it was real or not. These days bronzing drops were all the rage.

“Be careful, darlin’,” the handsome stranger said to her sister, whose blush seemed very visible because of her pale skin, looking at him as though he was a heaven-sent messenger offering tickets to paradise. She was so red even her blue roots seemed to be turning purplish.

Libby shyly thanks him and practically runs out the door, red-faced. The stranger’s gaze follows her curiously, and then he picked up an item that had fallen off a nearby shelf when he’d bumped into her. He then turned around and headed for the counter.

“The name’s Nash.” He glanced out at the sign Libby was flipping outside that now read ‘CLOSED’. “Well, mind if I take a look around even though you seem to be closing up? I promise I won’t take long.”

Avery nodded, watching him as he wandered around the little shop, his boots clicking rhythmically. He stopped at a particular shelf and picked up a knife, flipping it over in his large palm. It had patterns engraved onto the blade and a gem encrusted hilt, one of the more expensive items the shop had to sell lately.

“I’ll buy it,” he said, looking back up. The strange cowboy came and placed it on the counter, pulling out a shiny black card.

“Is that your sister?” he asked as she rummaged around, trying to find the magnetic stripe reader. Customers didn’t usually arrive waving around a fancy card.

“Yeah.” Avery paused, looking at him suspiciously. “Why do you ask?”

Nash raised an eyebrow playfully. “Ever heard of genuine, well intentioned romantic interest, kid?” he said, a slight southern accent dragging out some vowels and adding an atypical rhythm to his speech. Was that real, too? “What’s her name?”

“Libby. And stay far, far away from her,” she warned as she handed him the receipt and the knife. ‘Nash’ gave her a grin.

“Farewell, little miss. I’ll make sure to come around again, and maybe I’ll have my brothers tag along next time.” With that, he tipped his cowboy hat at her and winked, then turned around to walk out. Avery glared at him through the store’s glass door as he chatted away with Libby outside.

Her fists tightened on the edges of the countertop; fragments of their yapping being heard through the open window. Libby did not need another act to her tragic love life. Drake was already more than enough.

Sure, this guy looked nicer, but you could never know for sure. Drake had looked handsome and calm at first, too.

Avery rubbed her temples, trying to soothe the already forming headache as Libby burst back into the store, blabbing away.

“Avery, isn’t he so dreamy? I never liked cowboys but…”

Someone kill me now.

~~~

Let me know if you want to be tagged in the future chapters!

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ryo-maybe · 2 years

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I was reminded while watching Edgerunners about the discussions about the interesting topic that is transhumanity in cyberpunk fiction and, more specifically, the way cybernetics work in Cyberpunk and Shadowrun. Replacement of the organic with the artificial is a game of checks and balance where a person’s humanity is at stake - from what I can recall, in Shadowrun cybernetics come at the cost of your very soul (I have only read LPs of the games, so I don’t know how close to the source material this is), whereas in Cyberpunk the cost seems to be more grounded in reality (there is a line in the anime mentioning the erosion of one’s soul in exchange for the usage of cyber implants, but I imagine that it was purely a metaphor, seeing as the metaphysical doesn’t seem to be a feature of the setting unlike Shadowrun). There is this curious angle where cybernetics are a Forbidden Apple, the key to a realm of possibilities beyond the scope of what was allowed by nature/God: the sacrality of the body is preserved amidst critiques of corporate-driven society, misusage of technology and so on.

I imagine that this is, first and foremost, a matter of gameplay balance: the obvious advantages provided by cybernetics require drawbacks in order to ground the player characters in some way, lest they steamroll through the game and enjoy a kind of ease of access to their preferred tool that would virtually destroy any sense of challenge and the need for progression. There is, of course, the marriage of gameplay and narrative, since the latter, too, is a fundamental aspect of tabletop RPGs: erosion of the self, wrestling with the moral and practical quandaries that come with turning into a Ship of Theseus gijinka, and a whole slew of other narrative possibilities are undeniably enticing, because it is a struggle that engenders and propels a proactive narrative, especially one within a setting and system where action stands at the forefront.

But I do wonder, just the same. How much this sacrality of the body is unavoidable, and if it speaks of certain nuances within the minds of those who made a conscious choice to incorporate it within their narrative. It’s like an itch I can’t help but scratch. Of seeing these two conflicting beliefs coexist within the hypothetical (but actually very real) person who wove these worlds: that cybernetics and transhumanism are inherently cool and amazing, but at the same time to inflict the violence of external change upon the body warrants a form of punishment.

#but I very much might be overthinking it and it may just be a matter of balance #still though. still

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wardencommanderrodimiss · 19 days

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Thinking, as one does for no reason, about how the Descent into Avernus campaign is a pretty significant background event for BG3 - Karlach, Wyll, Mizora, the refugees from Elturel - but due to the nature of things, BG3 has to commit its setting to following up on only one of the many possible outcomes of the campaign. Elturel is raised from the Hells, Duke Ulder Ravengard survived, Zariel remains alive and an archdevil. That's the game's canon.

Now, however, consider this. A different outcome. One where Zariel is redeemed - by the power of friendship and a really cool sword, my tabletop group did just that. And after Elturel is raised from the Hells, Zariel gives the adventuring party one of her feathers, which they can use once to call upon her for aid.

(So a redeemed, archangel-again Zariel affects Karlach and Wyll's personal quests, of course, but there's a power vacuum in Avernus with Zariel gone, and it's not hard to consider that Mizora could be making a grab for more power and want Karlach hunted down for those reasons. Anyway!)

All of this is context for this joke:

Tav who previously experienced the events of Descent into Avernus, redeemed Zariel and saved Elturel, and is the member of their adventuring party who was holding on to Zariel's feather.

And then, like two weeks after all that shit, Tav gets abducted by mindflayers and gets a tadpole stuck in their head and goes through more shit with the feather in their pocket the whole time. Meets Wyll, meets Karlach, meets Mizora, hears about how their stories intersect with Zariel and Avernus. (Hears that Duke Ravengard was captured - man, we just saved him from the Hells, are you kidding.)

And in the midst of all that, Tav can, at any point, call on Zariel for help. Funniest timing for this: Either when Mizora is re-negotiating Wyll's contract, or in the Iron Throne after Wyll has broken his pact for good.

Just imagine it. This devil is being a bitch to your friend, threatening him with his dad's death if he doesn't sign over his soul again, so you call up her former boss. Imagine being Mizora and having that happen, one of Wyll's shitty little friends just saying "oh, by the way" and revealing that they have Zariel on speed dial. Imagine being Karlach and having that happen, Tav's helped her with her heart, heard all about what Zariel did to her, Tav turned Zariel back into a celestial and has her on speed dial. Wyll in the middle of this and also also learning that Tav met and saved his dad in Avernus. Zariel, showing up to help one of the brave adventurers who saved her and then finding herself in a room with Karlach and Mizora, both of whom are super pissed at her for very different reasons. The rest of the party on the sidelines, who are all trying to remember if Tav ever mentioned anything more than "yeah, I was in Avernus when Elturel was dragged down". (They didn't. Certainly did not mention that they are one of the people responsible for saving the fucking city).

Or like, the Iron Throne, Mizora thinks she's being so funny sending in the exploding spiders to make sure Ulder dies, well Tav's about to be hilarious--

#bg3 #bg3 spoilers #roddy plays dnd #my PC for descent is the one that ended up with the feather at our campaign's end #(actually our party got two feathers. bc we were split at the time)#so it is very funny to think about dropping him in bg3 #just sitting there that first night after the group recruits karlach #wondering if he should mention. yknow. HIS little history with zariel. (he would not mention it.)#(he would also not mention that he is a dhampir. which is some whole other nonsense later no doubt)

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theresattrpgforthat · 11 months

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hiya, i love all your rec posts so much! my polycule and i are looking for 4 player games to play (ideally gmless) on our holiday this summer, do you or your followers have any suggestions? thank you!

THEME: 4-Player-Compatible GM-less Games.

Hello friend! I've got a number of recommendations for you here, and I'm personally very excited by all of the games on this list. Enjoy!

The Creature Comes for Us, by OrionQK.

The Creature Comes for Us is a game that can be played solo or multiplayer which uses a standard deck of cards, two six-sided dice, and the players' imagination.

You play as a group of people preparing to fight against a currently unknown threat. You will learn (through drawing cards) about the creature that is coming for you, you will find resources and tactics to fight against them, and you will learn more about the unique traits and talents of the player characters. The second part of the game brings together what you've gathered to fight the looming horrors and you will find out if your characters and world can survive the onslaught.

You’re going to need both dice and cards for this one. Slowly uncover the creature that’s hunting you, and then take what you’ve learned and turn to face the horror. It’s inspired by games such as The Quiet Year and The Junkyard. The game comes with a simple outline of the game, and an oracle for each card that you may pull. The game also comes with a number of tips for a shorter game, a longer game, and how to make the game a fun experience for different kinds of players. If you want a great summer spook story, this is worth checking out!

Scary Monsters & Nice Sprites, by Pammu.

Scary Monsters and Nice Sprites is a narrative RPG about spending your night in one of the only clubs in your city that’s safe for creatures of the night like yourself. All you want to do is have some fun just like the humans do. Play a supernatural creature of choice, put some sick EDM on the speakers and get your game on!

You can alter how long you’re going to play by lengthening or shortening the intimacy meters between each pair of characters. You will roll dice and spend tokens to indicate the advances you make with different characters, narrating what you do to get them to look your way. While this game is primarily designed for a one-shot, the creator also provides ideas for making this a longer game. If you’re interested in a heavily descriptive game that gives all of you plenty of opportunities to flirt with each-other, this is a great option.

Waxworm, by FeatherBoy.

Waxworm is a game about legacies, survival, spite, love, and reclaiming a world taken from you by others. It is also a rule-light solarpunk tabletop role-playing game set in a world covered in water and broken concrete spires baking in the sun, and named for the questionable theory that waxworm moths might be well on their way to one day digesting plastics. Players may find themselves helping regrow broken communities adrift on the waves. They may also find that they are adrift themselves, searching for a community in which they can grow.

In Waxworm, each player acts as a Crew, rather than an individual. These Crews work together to grow and support each other, and face down adversity upon the waves and islands. The core of gameplay involves exploring relations within and between Crews, and exploring how those dynamics shift as crew-members come and go.

Another game inspired by the Quiet Year, Waxworm is a great cozy game that explores a hopeful future. The game is designed to be printed, which means that you can bring a physical copy and not worry about reading the rules off of a screen or having difficulty reading the text.

Here We Used To Fly, by A Smouldering Lighthouse.

Here We Used to Fly is a rules-light tabletop roleplaying game about a group of friends exploring an abandoned theme park. Over the course of a single session, players will create two versions of the same character: one a child visiting the vibrant amusement park, one an adult investigating the ruins. As they discover or revisit each location in the park, they’ll play out scenes spotlighting moments of joy, frustration, fear, love, loss, and more.

This game feels like it requires a bit of prep, but each character is packaged into playbooks, so all of your options will be laid out in the same place. The play is also structured to make it easy to follow: with each Attraction you visit you’ll move from a childhood scene to a current-day scene. I’m very intrigued by this game and its partner, Endless Summer by Kay Marlow Allen. The whole feeling of nostalgia and whimsy feels perfect for a summer vacation with your loved ones.

Games I’ve Recommended in the Past

Fedora Noir, by Less Than Three Games.

Seemannsgarn, by Max Kämmerer.

Space Bounty Blues, by the Nerdy Paper Games of Rob Hebert.

Swamp Troll Witch(es), by Cats Have No Lord.

#tabletop games #indie ttrpgs #dnd #game recommendations #gm-less

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lunarbard · 5 months

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After a 6 hour download due to bad internet, I finally got around to playing the Baldur's Gate 3 epilogue. And it feels like yet another piece of a game that fails to be more than the sum of its parts.

I'm a fan of Larian studios - DOS2 is one of my favorite games - and I appreciate how much work went into Baldur's Gate 3. I also ran seven playthroughs in that first release month; I've probably run through that game more than 90% of its players today, let alone given the timeframe. But BG3 had already been the biggest push for me to move away from D&D 5e in my tabletop games just from the Early Access, and I went into the release knowing I would find the combat rather insufferable (especially after a month or so of playing Wildermyth, which probably has my favorite simple tactical combat in a crpg I've played). And the application of skills in general. But honestly the cinematics / story delivery (and promise of consequences later) in EA had me wanting to see the rest of the game.

And the game does have its moments: Karlach's monologue & Dark Urge refusing their blood are fantastic. But those are all that really stood out in their entirety,

I stopped playing the game because the seventh playthrough was my tactician run for the last achievement at the time, and ironically it was the first time I actually got Dark Urge's special good ending (my four other Dark Urge runs I went to Avernus with Karlach). And the game gives this little somber note of reflection for Dark Urge, and it's an incredible moment that gives more closure for the whole game than the default endings and epilogue combined.

Then it's rather strangled the moment you reflect on the rest of the game, because the game doesn't allow itself much space to breathe. And it's all the tadpoles' fault.

If there's one thing missing from BG3 (which is being generous), it's adventure. The tadpoles have a lot of game design uses, but perhaps their largest impact is how they allow the game to yoink you on a single track towards its conclusion. So exploration is limited, and typically just rewards you with the equivalent of a pile of necrotic needles & a blighted shambling mound digesting you (all with a 30 perception check required to not be surprised, mind you). Or you accidentally skip half an act because you wandered into a tomb.

But I digress on why Act 2 is a wad of melting glue desperately trying to bridge the gap between the two actual halves of the game.

DOS2 and BG3 are both built out of wide area maps set in linear chains. There seems to be this philosophy that single, completely interconnected maps are just better than traveling between smaller areas via a world map even when those maps make the story make less sense, like the goblin camp being a ~10 minute walk from the grove down a straight road.

I want you to imagine what Act 1` might look like if the map was instead properly split up into distinct locations across an overworld map:

Your arrival in the grove is timed with the goblins attacking Waukeen's Rest; if you look through the telescope, you see their banners marching in that direction.

That gives you a marker on your world map to travel to, which takes a few hours overland and you find the place burning after the raid and can help the people there.

Here you could get two leads: the Zhentarim sending you down the road to the toll post to check on their shipment (with the flind & gnolls being a set encounter when trying to reach there) and tracks that lead to the blighted village.

In the blighted village you encounter some goblins, get the location of the goblin camp (likely from a dead or alive goblin), and head to that marker to find the warband returned from the inn and celebrating. (or maybe you find information on the Selunites here, and follow the indications of a Selunite temple in hopes of finding a healer, only to find it ruined with goblins in it).

Area divisions - whether short loading zones in old Monster Hunter or a dotted line for travel across a world map - give a ton of space to state or imply time & distance without needing to accurately render them. Pathfinder: Kingmaker did a great job of also throwing in some party banter for companions when you rested, which, with a good budget, could do wonders for providing those little companion interactions a good chunk of bg3 players appear to crave.

Those are some of the breathing moments the game needed. Little bits of connection, reflection, and companionship. I want more small moments for Dark Urge where you get to have them think on their affliction - really think! not "kick cat: Yes / no / normal dialogue." I want more urges that are actually urges and you have to resist, or actively save someone, and build this narrative anywhere other than your head because the game treats the Dark Urge as "here's a really evil option. You're good for not picking it."

Which sums up 95% of the game's "moral" choices too.

The one thing BG3 does better than any crpg I've played is its graphics, cinematics, and letting you make an explicitly trans character.

And I think that's why the epilogue felt so flat to me. You walk around and talk to people, then watch everyone give a toast. For all I've come to dread the thought of playing this game, I would pay a good amount to get an epilogue that's like DOS2, but with cinematics instead of character art.

#ttrpg #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 spoilers

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unwisemagi · 3 months

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Au Ideas!

I'm sick, so until I have enough brain function to continue the parent au, take a few ideas I had while groggy on cough syrup.

•RPG Au: The scrybes are just a group of enthusiastic DnD (or other such RPG tabletop games) players. Inscryption is the name of their longest running campaign that went off the rails because of how much fun they've been playing. Leshy and Poe (PO3) are competitive with each other, especially when it comes to being the DM. Magnificus handles all the props, art work, and magic. Grimora is a voice of reason (most of the time) and handles all the gothic and horror related stuff. Their subordinates are new players who are learning from them.

•New Characters Au: okay, so imagine Inscryption exists as it's own separate world. And somehow, the challengers end up stuck in the game. Thing is the challengers all know each other and are even friends, this group can include Luke and Kaycee. How do they know each other? The group plays DnD and/or Warhammer40k (I only know those two lol) and end up sharing all sorts of stories from the many campaigns they've run with the Scrybes. The group somehow starts a new campaign and the scrybes can't help but watch because damn, they are so creative and really strategic! But then they do the dumbest most nonsensical things possible. Maybe they convince the scrybes to join one time, who knows.

•Acting Au: Inscryption is a video game with sentient ai. It's so sentient, that to protect themselves from deletion or worse, they put on a show for any players that find their game. The OLD-DATA is more like an Eldritch being that watches everything. It makes sure the codes function, keeps out malware/viruses, and alters the world as needed. They're like the big protector of the game instead of a threat.

•Glitch: Inscryption isn't a finished game. It was abandoned right? So what if that meant the game wasn't stable. There's missing textures, people with no names or purpose even programed, left over code that was never taken care of, and glitches. So many glitches and bugs. Imagine a world like that from their eyes and how terrifying it must be. Seeing areas that don't match the rest of the world at all, or places you can't walk or you risk just falling through what should be solid ground. Emotionless, in some cases, faceless people walking around that never respond and never will. Watching things blink in and out of existence or not being able to comprehend some objects because they technically don't exists. It's why they are so desperate to finish/release the game. Besides that, whose to say that deleting the game won't cause more problems rather than fix it. Especially if the ones who delete it are from the game instead of outside it

#inscryption #Inscryption au ideas #I'm sick so here you go #inscryption writing

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adarlingwrites · 1 year

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Hellbound

Summary:

Unable to shake off the demons, particularly a devil, of her past, Fortune becomes aware that her anguish is bleeding over to her current deal and dalliance with Raphael.

Once and for all, she confronts this with the devil she knows better. After a much needed amendment to their agreement, she seals her fate.

Inspired by the songs A Pearl, and Shame.

Words: 5379

Relationships: Raphael x OC/Raphael x Tav

Date of Original Publication (AO3): January 25, 2023

Tags/Warnings: Unhealthy Relationships, Manipulative Relationship, Age Difference, Power Dynamics, Power Play, Deal with a Devil, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Past Relationship(s), Trauma, Moving On (Fortune is traumatized by a former love interest), Angst and Porn, Angst, Smut, Fear Play, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Face-Fucking, Vaginal Fingering, Anal Fingering, Sex, Vaginal Sex, Anal Sex, Rimming, Fluff (if you squint hard enough) Praise Kink, Master/Servant, Exhibitionism, Semi-Public Sex, Aftercare, Not Beta Read

Author's Notes:

A direct continuation to A Devilish Distraction.

More of Raphael and Fortune because this damn devil has me on a chokehold. I went into a spiral listening to Mitski, and I coped with it by writing this. Welp.

I'm still hoping that we get NPCs as patrons for warlocks in the game, like Auntie Ethel for an archfey patron, or Raphael for a fiend patron. Fortune would be a Pact of the Talisman warlock if that option gets into the game. I know warlocks get pact boons at third level in tabletop D&D, but I took some liberties and had Raphael forge her talisman right after their agreement.

Love, hunger, possessions, wealth, influence, knowledge, power, pleasure- there’s always something that everyone is enslaved by, from the simplest of creatures, to the most powerful beings in the multiverse.

To Fortune’s shame, she had been a slave to her desires. She wants a partner in crime, for someone who will stand by her, for someone who will love her even after seeing all the ugly and twisted parts of her psyche, and it cost her the freedom she took for granted.

From the moment she had lighted the candle the night she wagered her soul for a stranger she stupidly claimed to have loved, she already knew she was damned. The flames flickered and illuminated her visage from below, and in the mirror, she can see herself surrounded by darkness; it was how she imagined hell look like, and later, the foolish girl found out that it was far worse than that.

True to her name, she’s fortunate enough to have evaded the Hells the first time. Then came her defeat at the hands of those who were to be her quarry. That should have been the end for her.

The wheel of fortune turns, and she finds herself free from her prison, only for her to squander that freedom again.

All because she’s still a slave to her desires.

The bastard Raphael left a mark on her, after their sin in his king-sized bed- not a mere love bite, but his goddamn initial, in Infernal script, branded onto her skin. It still ached when she woke up, and the curse the let out upon seeing it when she looked in the mirror reverberated through the walls of Raphael’s home.

Now she’s truly damned.

Then again, was she ever free?

Does true freedom even exist?

Raphael manipulating her into a contract didn’t stop her from seeking him out for a distraction from what haunts her. Fortune was bent over hardwood and used like a whore, then read to like a child, and still, she cannot fall asleep, or put the past behind her.

On the other hand, Raphael had already dozed off, his hands slack around the book. His wings are wrapped around the two of them in an embrace guaranteed to warm Fortune up even in the coldest of nights. The tiefling didn’t even know cambions can do that with their wings.

In his slumber, Fortune observes him. In his slumber, he looks at peace. In his slumber, he is vulnerable.

One flick of the rogue’s wrist and that throat would be gaping and spraying with his devil blood.

Instead, Fortune found herself caressing his cheek, and leaving a feather-light kiss on his horned forehead.

True to her nature as a rogue, Fortune moved in silence, careful not to wake her lover up, slipping past his arms and dodging his leathery wings. She puts the book on the table, leaving the bookmark where they stopped, and leaves his study. With muffled footsteps, she treads back to the bed chambers provided to her.

As soon as the doors behind her click shut, the tears started falling.

Everything is all coming back to her; the way Thatcher, or Kairon, broke her damned heart. Fortune is certain Raphael will break it even further.

It started with Thatcher plying her with wine. Devils and their bloody wine.

Before she learned of his true nature, she had mistaken him for another elven noble who wanted to try what lying with a tiefling felt like. In hindsight, him making a remark about wondering how it would feel like to be in her skin should’ve given it away.

A lot has transpired since then, from watching him dragged to the hells due to someone else tampering with his gift meant for her before she can get to it, to losing her mother to a lycanthrope attack and watching her father be cursed with the affliction. It made her desperate to keep the people in her life.

It made her desperate enough to beg Asmodeus to give Thatcher, or rather, Kairon back. Later, it made her desperate enough to embrace her mother’s copy, but that’s a story for another day.

Fortune should have seen the figurative knife coming. Even after wagering her soul for him like that, and after showing his true nature which he loathed so much that he built Thatcher to mask it, he didn’t trust her.

Devils don’t trust.

But Thatcher twisted the knife way too far when he disguised himself as Hoard, sullied his own name to the party, and tried to convince Fortune not to kill those strangers in Asmodeus’ name, just to test their reaction. Of course, Fortune would lie to her father about not wanting to kill those strangers Asmodeus tasked her to eliminate. They’re strangers, and Fortune isn’t that selfless. But learning of the truth that his daughter would be a remorseless killer would break her daddy’s heart.

So, she lied.

Still disguised as her father, Thatcher kissed her forehead, then revealed himself a few moments later, furious at the perceived betrayal.

Devils and their bloody schemes.

The most heartbreaking part is, if Thatcher hadn’t betrayed them, if he had stayed with Fortune, they would have had a fighting chance to take down their quarry. Perhaps they’d have fulfilled their contract with Asmodeus, and earned their freedom.

Instead, Fortune revealed her hand and didn’t even fight back.

Overcame with guilt and despair, the rogue committed suicide by proxy by letting her prey take her down, taking blow after blow until her body collapses, and her minotaur companion, her oldest friend, takes her away, and watches as hellfire claims her.

Poor Villian. He didn’t deserve to see me like that.

Fortune could already feel in her bones that another bloody catastrophe will unfold with Raphael.

Devils are always so tempting at the start. But in the end? All they bring is ruin. One cambion already ruined her. Now she’s letting another one damn her further.

Fortune is certain that Raphael doesn’t trust her either. She’s certain that whatever affection or fondness she has for him won’t change him, just like it didn’t change Thatcher. She’s certain that down the road, Raphael will gut her, just like Thatcher did.

Even worse, she and Raphael consummated their lust.

Fortune is certain that she will never be able to erase what he felt like, what he smelled like, and what he tasted like from her memory.

The rogue was being deceitful when she told the devil that the stress that comes from minding her compatriots is what drove her to seek him out.

Fortune wanted him one last time before the chase begins.

In a hurry, she begins to dress. She had intended to leave through the window, and disappear into the night. Blinking away tears, she puts on her stockings and adjusts the hemline of her skirt. As she puts on her boot, she felt a searing hand on her shoulder.

“My dear, I’m offended that you’d spurn my offer of a bedchamber in my house for a bedroll in the dirt, after I’ve treated you so well too,” he starts, voice hard.

“Wait, Raphael I-”

The words cease from flowing out her mouth as Raphael whirls her around and pushes her against the wall, pinning her under his weight. Forcefully, he burns her lips with a kiss, tongue invading the wet cavern of her mouth. Gooseflesh ripples through Fortune’s body, and she felt her knees buckle under his touch.

“Do I have to remind you of what you agreed to, Fortune?” the devil asks as he gasped for air. “Or do I have to remind you again with a lesson? I grow tired of this; you test my patience-”

Instead of letting passion overrule her better judgment again, Fortune wriggles away, palming at his chest. “No!”

Raphael tries to catch her, but she takes a misty step away from him, panting, tears in her eyes.

“I can’t take it, I can’t! I don’t want your touch right now. I want you to stop touching me,” Fortune wails, voice breaking. “I want you to stay there and listen. You said you’ll give me anything I want, yes? Failing to do so is a breach of contract, so stay put.”

This girl is far too clever, too quick-witted than what he gave her credit for, and Raphael isn’t sure if he should be furious, or proud. The cambion stops short of moving or talking, seeing how doing so would result in him breaking the contract. No devil worth his salt would incur the punishment of Asmodeus’ ruby rod over such an error.

“You truly are a descendant of Glasya. Go ahead, use every loophole you can find, but few walk away from me in violation of a deal, Fortune. Remember that.”

Fortune takes a steadying breath and clears her throat. “Let me explain, just, give me a damn moment.”

“Take all the time you need, we have all night,” Raphael replies, crossing his arms.

Sighing, Fortune takes a seat by the open window, eyes closed as she tries to calm herself. Raphael sat across her, on the bed. In any other circumstance, Raphael would have been relishing at the sight of his clients like this: vulnerable and easily plied. For some bloody reason, he can’t find in himself to celebrate seeing the tiefling lady like this.

This girl really is growing on me.

The cambion’s eyes are trained on her as she began to speak.

“I was lying, I’m getting along well with my compatriots. There was something else haunting me. Remember that whole affair with Asmodeus’ bastard son? It left me scarred, in more ways than one. It left me slow to trust, and yet it also left me desiring to be trusted. I want someone who trusts me. And you devils, I know you’re incapable of such a thing. I don’t think you can fulfill this contract, under these circumstances. If I were cruel, I’d say that I want you to do that for me, and watch you burn as you fail.”

Fortune is right, and that makes Raphael wince. Devils don’t trust.

“But I can’t afford to be cruel right now. I know that I might need you later. And I-“ Fortune hesitates, biting her tongue, then she screws her eyes shut, as if saying the next words physically hurts, “For some bloody reason, I’ve grown fond of you. I still want you. Gods, I want you so much…”

Now that, Raphael did not expect her to say out loud. Still, he gives no reaction, and lets her continue.

“I don’t think I can fulfill my end of the bargain, as well. Oh, bloody hells, I’m not even sure what being yours mean, Raphael! Do you expect me to stay here and sit on my hands while the tadpole eats away at my brain? Is that what you meant in making me yours, by treating me as some kept woman you provide shelter and support to in exchange for my companionship? Is-is it my soul that I wagered to you? You can’t even have that if I lose it to the tadpole- gods! This is far too complicated… The point is, we’re doomed to violate it, one way or another, and you of all people should know that. Isn’t there a way out of this, or at least a way to amend the deal?”

Raphael had been pondering about voiding the deal. Now, there’s an opportunity to do so, but Raphael is not a fool to just let this woman go. To his delight, she had given him an opportunity to make it work in his favor.

The devil produces the written copy of their contract from thin air. “We can agree to render this contract void… as if the deal never happened. However, reverting has its consequences. How would you propose I give back the intangible things you wanted that I provided, Fortune? Like a night of passion, or a request to listen?”

No answer can come out of the tiefling’s mouth. She shakes her head.

Raphael continues. “I admit, I’m also starting to grow fond of you in my way, so I am extending my mercy. For both our sakes, we can agree to amend it with a new one, to balance the books.”

A long, tired sigh pushes past Fortune’s lips. “Looks like I’m stuck with you.”

Fortune’s hand itches to slap that smile off of Raphael’s face, but she kept her hands to herself.

“Now that we’re both in a situation that allows for clearer thinking, unlike the last one…” Raphael begins, harkening back to the circumstances of their first agreement, the memory of burying himself deep inside of Fortune making him lick his lips. “Let’s discuss the stipulations of this new agreement.”

“Name your terms. What makes me yours? What exactly do you want from me?”

The devil’s clawed, long fingers stroke Fortune’s chin, and he leers at her. “I want to own your body,” he purrs into her ear, voice low and seductive. One hand squeezes her hip, and it slowly inches to her behind. “To use it for whatever I desire, my dear.”

“Human, elf, or devil, you men are all alike,” Fortune spits, sneering.

“Are we now? Or is it your dark, sensuous charms that captivates and enthralls a man, regardless of his origins? But I digress- Now name your terms. Tell me something that you want.”

“Now hold on a minute, owning my body could mean several things,” Fortune snaps, placing her palms on his chest. “It could mean that you can use me as a means to sate your sexual appetite. You can use to it bear your children. You could use it to fight a battle. Hell, it could even mean that you own the tadpole in my head, as it is technically inside of my body right now. Reword it.”

Raphael laughs and squeezes her. “This is what I love and hate about you, sweet cherry. You always see beyond what’s in front of you, always reading between the lines, always attempting to think a few steps ahead…”

“I can’t afford myself to be short-sighted anymore, and you know that.”

“Indeed, my dear. Fine, let me rephrase.” Raphael pauses to kiss her neck. “I am the only creature allowed to gain carnal knowledge from you. I am the only one allowed to kiss you, hold you, taste you, know you, and violate you like this. In the works of the flesh, I am your only master,” he near-whispers into her skin, taking in her scent as he did.

“Exclusivity? Are you getting attached now?” Fortune asks, slightly amused at the notion. “Don’t you have countless mistresses who can attend to your needs better than a rogue on the run for a cure to an illithid infection, Raphael?”

A gasp pushes past the tiefling’s hips as her cambion lover grinds his hips against her. Underneath the layers of cloth that separate them, he’s already hard as rock, and pulsing against her thigh.

“As you can see, you’re the only one who can elicit such a reaction from me even before you touch me, little cherry,” Raphael growls.

Truth be told, Fortune is flattered to be this desired, after feeling unwanted from Thatcher’s betrayal. The tiefling leans into him, heat pooling into the pit of her belly.

“Now, name your terms, so we can seal the deal.”

Eyebrows knitting together, Fortune thinks, thoroughly. She needs to make this worth it; being a cambion’s consort and bedmate is too steep of a price for something that won’t be of much use to her. All the nobles that sought out dalliances with her in her youth gave her the same material things Raphael had provided. Even without a noble financing her, riches, she can earn with her own hands, and influence, she can earn with her own tongue. What can Raphael offer that she cannot achieve with her own means? What can Raphael offer that other nobles she had the displeasure of knowing can’t?

Fortune recalls his halfling servant, Korrilla Hearthflame, and how effortlessly she wielded her borrowed magic. The only magic Fortune knew are spells that supplement her roguish activities.

Fortune could use some of Raphael’s magic. Fortune could use more power.

“Make me your warlock. It even ties in with your original intent of using my body- turn me into a vessel of your power.”

The devil’s laughter booms. At this point, Fortune might as well offer herself on a silver platter.

At the same time, Raphael cannot wait to see just how this little vixen will use her gifts.

“My dear, it’s a deal.”

Back in his study, Raphael drafts the contract as Fortune looms over his shoulder.

Watching a devil produce a contract out of thin air is a sight that will remain in Fortune’s memories until her last days. In gold ink, the terms of their contract appear on the document. This time, Fortune carefully reads every single word.

Satisfied, she dips the feather in the inkwell, and signs her name over the dotted line. Raphael follows shortly, and the contract dematerializes. Pain sears Fortune’s neck as the brand on her skin glows, signifying that the deal is sealed. Magic surges through her veins, arcane and eldritch powers coursing through her, and she nearly stumbles. Raphael catches her, steadying her feet.

“Couldn’t we just have made a toast to seal it instead of this?” she asks Raphael, an unamused expression on her features. Raphael presses a thumb against the mark. Fortune sucks air through her teeth at the feeling of the touch.

“Don’t you think branding you is more… thematically appropriate, consider the nature of our deal?”

“You devils and your whimsical nonsense,” she groans. To that remark, Raphael snickers.

The devil’s palm glow with hellfire, and an intricate, golden amulet with a blood-red gem embedded in the center materializes. It dangles on a delicate, golden chain. As the metal cools, he unfastens the chain, and puts the necklace around Fortune’s neck.

“There, another gift. A symbol of our deal, and a useful tool in your endeavors. Use your new gifts wisely, Fortune.”

“I intend to make you proud,” she half teases, half declares.

“Ah, speaking of whimsy, there is something new I wish to try tonight. I’m certain that what I have in store will help you bury the memory of that damn Thatcher. First, let’s pick up where we left off…”

With that, his lips descend upon the tiefling’s. This time, she readily accepts him, pushing back the memories that haunt her as she lived in the moment, tasting her lover’s intoxicating tongue, inhaling his heady perfume and musk, and feeling his muscles under his night shirt.

Smoke rises around them, and they are transported to Raphael’s bedroom. The doors to the balcony are left open, the wind making the fog dissipate, and the curtains sway and dance.

Breaking the kiss, Raphael strips himself, and Fortune watches his muscles shift and move with grace. Then, he proceeds to undo her clothing, until both are bare in each other’s presence.

Lifting her up, Raphael groans as his lover wraps her legs around his waist, her arms around his shoulders. With his tail, he pulls a drawer open from his nightstand, and retrieves a fresh flask of that lubricating concoction they used on the first night they lay with each other.

Still carrying Fortune in his arms, he walks to the balcony, and sets her to sit on the railing. The crisp night air makes his member retract slightly, but he’ll warm up soon enough. He pulls away from Fortune, and sees the hesitation in her eyes.

“Worry not my dear. I’ll hold you.”

“On the balcony?!” Fortune blurts out, looking over her shoulder. “What if someone sees us?”

“Let them see,” he moans into her ear, and nips at it.

Kisses mixed with bites and scrapes of sharp teeth mark Fortune’s neck, and any attempts to keep quiet in fear of a passerby hearing fail. Deft fingers pluck, roll, and pull at the hardening cherries on her bosom, cold to Raphael’s touch due to her exposure. Her devil beau’s warm, sinister tongue brushes over the brand on her neck and Fortune curses, the pain and pleasure making her head spin.

Gods, Fortune is almost in her mid-thirties, but with a gentleman like Raphael? She feels inexperienced, and way younger than she should.

She leans back, momentarily forgetting that she’s perched on a railing, and fear jolts into her body, much to Raphael’s fiendish delight. He laughs at her reaction, and she knits her eyebrows together.

“Bastard,” she hisses, cheeks burning in embarrassment and arousal.

Raphael smirks, then firmly holds her with one arm as the other snakes between her legs. His tail brings over the bottle of lubrication, and he pours it all over Fortune’s already glistening sex, thoroughly wetting her until her tender flesh offers no resistance to his claws.

Obsidian eyes saw stars, literally and figuratively, as Fortune throws her head back. Raphael had three fingers lodged between her folds, his pinky inside that tight ring of muscle hidden between the cheeks of her derriere, and his thumb on her clitoris, circling the sensitive cluster of nerves as his fingers teased her. Fortune’s tail curls around his arm.

Raphael went to work. His lips latched on to a tit as he pleasured her. Fortune’s hands flew to his horns to steady herself, feeling the delicious, agonizing stretch of having both of her entrances filled and toyed with.

“My dear girl,” Raphael grunts, taking a break from suckling her breast. “Seeing you like this, I am unsure if I wrote my clause for my benefit, or yours.” Then, he went back to being busy with his mouth, his devilish tongue flicking and circling her hard nipples.

Fortune offers no reply, unable to form words from the intensity of the pleasure she felt. The telltale twitch of her hips lets her lover know that she’s close.

“Now, come for me,” Raphael growls against her breast, then he bites down, her maroon nipple pinched between his teeth, and his ministrations becoming aggressive as cruel as he teased chased that orgasm from her.

A submissive, sexual slave at heart, Fortune spasms around his hand at the command, the sound of his voice pushing her to her release. The devil’s name is upon her lips like a zealot’s pleas, a string of saliva connecting her lips together.

Slick with her release and the salve, Raphael withdraws his hand from between her legs, and he allows her to recover, head pressed against his chest as she breathed heavily. Then, he tilts her chin up, and shoves his forefinger and middle finger in her mouth. Fortune tastes the slightly sweet salve mingling with her own tang.

“Good girl.”

The praise makes Fortune moan against his digits. Raphael’s free hand stroked her head, watching with delighted arousal as her obsidian eyes flutter shut. She licks his fingers clean.

“You love your master’s praise? You want more?”

Fortune nods a few times, eager to please.

“Then you’ll have to earn more.”

Without being prompted, she hops of the railing to kneel before him. A leer spreads across the devil’s mouth as the tiefling grips his member and runs her tongue from the base to the tip.

“Such a good girl you are, learning how your master prefers to be pleasured in such little time…”

With her talented mouth, Fortune bathes him with her saliva, then gets busy suckling the heavy flesh that hangs below his length as she strokes him with her hand, ending it with a wet, lewd pop. Inch by inch, Fortune takes him in until his head tickles the back of her throat, and his dark hair tickles her nose. Eyes watering from exertion, she blinks the tears away and starts to bob her head.

Raphael’s eyes are fixated on his lover, watching her every move with a lascivious expression on his fiendish features. His hands clamp around her horns, and he proceeds to use them as handles as he thrusted his hips.

“Perfect,” he hisses, eyes drinking in the sight of her helpless and at his mercy.

The rogue maintains eye contact as she skillfully pleasured her master, taking all of him in as much as she can, letting him use her mouth. Her hands reach under his manhood to fondle him, squeezing him as he took her.

The devil’s hips twitching, he pulls her away from him, saliva stringing from her mouth to the angry, deep red tip. Fortune gives it one last suck, tongue fluttering against the underside.

“Enough. Bend over the railing, right now.”

The gruff, nearly guttural tone of Raphael’s command makes all of the hair on Fortune’s body stand on end.

“Yes master,” she whimpers as she does as she is told.

An embarrassed squeak bubbles up from the tiefling’s throat as she felt his warm tongue skirting around her back entrance, the ring of muscle quivering as it slid around it. Her tail stands erect in the air, twitching and vibrating like a happy, affectionate feline’s.

“I- that’s- isn’t that- oh! Fuck, Raphael what are you- oh gods,” Fortune babbles, no longer coherent once again. She hates and loves how he manages to rob her of her words every damn time.

The new sensation made Fortune lose herself to the pleasure, wild cherry eyes screwing shut and a look of labored pleasure upon her visage as Raphael licks, sucks, and kisses around the area. It all feels so taboo, and that factor just adds to the tiefling’s exhilaration.

Satisfied with his work, Raphael withdraws his face from between the apples of his lover’s cheeks. He wipes his mouth. With the snap of his fingers, the mess is gone, his mouth and hands clean. Then, with his strength, the cambion dangles half of her body over the balcony, her hips crushed against the cool marble railing. Without the need to tease her due to her already dripping snatch, Raphael slides right inside of her, past her folds, taking her like a bitch once again.

The position makes Fortune panic.

“Oh gods, Raphael, I’ll fall-“

“Shhhh,” he soothes her, holding her firmly. “I will never let you fall. I’m right here…”

Fortune screws her eyes shut, hands planting themselves to the railing as Raphael moves inside her, flesh slapping against flesh.

“Tonight, I am your master, and I’ll leave no holes unfilled once again,” he growls, the tiefling’s messy curls tickling his nose and chin. “You’re mine, and all of you are mine to please myself with and violate, do you understand?”

“Yes, master!” Fortune cries, voice quavering.

The angle of Raphael’s penetration hits Fortune in all of the right places, his head brushing against that spongy cluster of nerves that sends jolts of pleasure radiating through the tiefling’s sinful body. Opening her eyes, she sees the pavement down below, and fear mingles with her pleasure further, breaking her.

Shamelessly, her moan echoed into the night, the howling wind masking it. Her lover reaches one hand around her to massage her clitoris as she rode her release on his length, coming all over him.

As Fortune recovers from her high, Raphael takes the bottle of that lubricating concoction once again, and he douses her backside with it, spreading the lubrication all over her flesh, ensuring that it covers and slickens her hole. Then, he withdraws his hard, hot length from her womanhood, coats that with the lubricant too, and gives It a few pumps.

“Yes, master, please, your cock in my ass,” she begs, and the filthy language makes Raphael twitch. “Please, please, please, I need it!“

As the head pushes past her entrance, Fortune pushes back on it, eager to have her hole suck him inside of her, tail twitching in anticipation once again. The eagerness he displays makes Raphael chuckle, amused that she had grown to love and crave the feeling of being sodomized by him. Not a lot of his mistresses were open to this treatment. Some found it degrading, or violating. Perhaps it is, and Fortune is among the few who sought it out and begged to be degraded and violated.

Fortune felt ashamed of having such desires. However, in the presence of a devil like Raphael, there is no moralistic judgment against them.

What’s for certain, however, is damnation. For dealing with the devil, for consorting with the devil, for surrendering to the devil, Fortune is hellbound.

Raphael slides half of his length in and out a few times, watching with perverse satisfaction as her entrance stretches and shrinks, an obscene pop punctuating each motion. He teases the ring with his head in between penetrating her, basking in her moans and little sounds of enjoyment as he debased her. Finally, he stops teasing. He grabs her hips, dangles her over the edge once again, and pounds her properly, burying himself to the hilt.

The tiefling rogue’s pert breasts bounced and shook as her lover took her, her hands scrambling for purchase on anything she can grab. Thankfully, Raphael bends down to kiss her head, and she uses that opportunity to cling onto his horns. Fortune’s tail snakes around his thigh, clinging on for dear life. This earned her his amusement, and he laughs into her ear at her display of fear.

“Our activities are much more pleasurable when you’re reeling in fear,” he purrs, voice dripping with evil intent. “Are you afraid, Fortune? Scared I might let you fall?”

“Y-yes,” she chokes, breathing hard and fast from the fear of falling to her death, and being pounded mercilessly by a devil.

Raphael’s strong wings curl around their bodies, shielding most of Fortune’s body from the wind, and any onlookers that might be watching. Above all, it felt like a safety net.

“Embrace It, my cherry. Fear and pleasure are two sides of the same coin,” the devil purrs, grunting and groaning as he pumps inside of her.

The pressure starts to build at the base of Raphael’s spine, the pent-up frustration making his tail lash back and forth involuntarily. He had been holding his release for quite a while now.

“I’m close,” he growls. His hand moves to wrap itself around Fortune’s torso. “Join me. Come for me, cherry, come for me…”

One had letting go of his horn to stroke herself, Fortune did her best to follow the command, grunted over and over into her ear. Soon, her release is imminent.

“Raphael, master, I’m coming, I’m coming- yes!“

A deep, guttural groan almost deafens her as she felt his warm seed spill into her in spurts. Fortune cries and moans as she rode out her second climax with Raphael’s, hips twitching and tail shaking around his thigh.

The wind tousles their hair, howling with them.

The devil brings his lover back to safety, pulling her into his arms, and into his warm room. With a soft thud, Fortune finds herself on his bed. Then, Raphael closes the doors to the balcony.

“Stay,” he commands, but his voice is soft, almost taking a nurturing quality to it. The tiefling lays in silence for a brief moment, watching the shadows of the curtains dance.

The devil comes back with warm water and a washcloth, even when both of them could just prestidigitate the evidence of their lovemaking away.

Fortune does not question it.

With care and tenderness unbecoming of a devil, Raphael cleans her up, running the wet cloth on her skin. Mind still hazy from pleasure and fear, the tiefling sits in silent confusion, feeling like a small child being tended to. The rational part of her brain reminds her not to trust any tenderness from a cambion. However, her body, her senses, and her most primal desires crave more of these petty affections.

Once he is satisfied with his work, he lays next to her, and pulls her to his chest, covering her with the duvet to her waist. His wings, sprawling on the king-sized, curl around their bodies, further covering his lover from the cold.

Fortune does not question it.

Instead, unprompted, she whispers.

“I love you.”

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