On imps and tentacles
Undeserved Ascendance
chapter 15
by
copier
· original author:
an188
Emberlynn lounged on her living throne of glossy black tentacles, legs draped casually over one coiled armrest, while two thick tendrils continued their slow, rhythmic thrusting deep inside her. The sensation was constant, worshipful, never quite enough to push her over the edge again but enough to keep her pleasantly buzzed. She reached out with one long, manicured nail and stroked the nearest tentacle—Squishy-kun—running the glossy black polish along its slick surface like she was petting a favored cat.
Blitzo dangled upside-down in front of her, wrists and ankles bound by thinner tendrils, pizza slice long since dropped and smeared on the carpet. His golden-orange face was flushed with fury and humiliation, purple hair hanging toward the floor.
“Why don’t you like my new friends, Blitzy-kun?” Emberlynn asked sweetly, tilting her head as her nail traced lazy circles on the tentacle’s skin. It quivered happily under her touch. “They’re so soft… so obedient… so much better than a grumpy little imp.”
Blitzo bared his sharp teeth. “They’re fucking disgusting. Slimy, brainless, creepy-ass rape-vines. Get ‘em away from me.”
Emberlynn giggled, high and childish. “Don’t tease the tiger, Blitzy~ Rawrr~!” She pulled her nail back and gave a tiny, playful roar, flexing her free arm so the bicep peaked dramatically under pale skin.
Blitzo rolled his eyes so hard it looked painful. “Your baby voice and kitten act stopped being cute five hours ago. Untie me, psycho.”
The tentacles around Emberlynn tightened slightly. She felt their agitation ripple through her subconscious—cold, possessive whispers overlapping like overlapping waves.
Queen… he insults us…
Disloyal… treacherous…
Remove him… he will betray…
She blinked, confused. “Wait… you guys don’t like him either?”
The whispers grew insistent. He schemes… he will turn… end him… serve only you…
Emberlynn frowned, then looked back at Blitzo with sharper eyes. “Explain. Right now. Why do my tentacles hate you so much?”
Blitzo clamped his mouth shut, glaring.
She leaned forward, throne shifting smoothly to bring her closer. “I asked you a question.”
Silence.
Her purple eyes narrowed. Rage flickered—small at first, then blooming hot and violet. The tentacles sensed it instantly. They were extensions of her now; her anger became theirs. The ones holding Blitzo tightened until he hissed in pain.
“Talk,” she snapped.
Still nothing.
She raised one hand. A thin tentacle whipped forward and cracked across his chest, leaving a red welt. He yelped.
“Talk!”
Another lash. Another. Each strike made the whole room tremble as her fury fed the appendages.
Blitzo finally broke, snarling through gritted teeth. “Fine! Fuck! In our world—the other rings, whatever—tentacles and imps don’t mix. Never have. Tentacles are just… meat-puppets. Extensions of some big eldritch fucker that got chopped up or whatever. They’re loyal to whoever’s holding the leash until that guy dies. Absolute. No backtalk. No schemes.”
He spat to the side. “Imps? We’re bottom-tier. We survive by kissing ass to whoever’s stronger. But we’re still individuals. We’ll jump ship the second someone better shows up. That makes us useful… but also dangerous. Big eldritch assholes prefer tentacles because they never betray. Never plot. Never think for themselves. So yeah—tentacles get the cushy gigs serving cosmic gods. Imps get stuck doing grunt work and hoping the boss doesn’t squash us. Competition. Bad blood. That’s it.”
Emberlynn stared at him for a long moment.
Then she burst into delighted laughter.
“That’s hilarious!” she squealed, clapping her hands. “You’re jealous! My pretty tentacles are better employees than you~!”
She looked around at the writhing black limbs. “You hear that, Squishy-kun? Wiggly-chan? Blitzy-kun is just jealous because you’re more loyal!”
The tentacles pulsed happily, nuzzling her thighs.
She turned back to Blitzo with a childish pout. “No fighting in my house. You’re both mine. So you have to be friends. Right now.”
Blitzo’s eyes widened. “You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kidding me.”
She pouted harder. “Kiss and make up. Or I let Squishy-kun squeeze you until you pop.”
Blitzo stared at the nearest tentacle, which was already curling curiously toward his face. His stomach visibly turned.
“…Fuck my entire afterlife,” he muttered.
Emberlynn giggled and gestured. The tentacles lowered him slowly until his face hovered inches from the tip of one particularly thick, dripping appendage.
Blitzo gagged. “I’m gonna puke.”
“Do it,” she said sweetly.
He squeezed his eyes shut, leaned forward, and pressed the quickest, most disgusted peck imaginable against the slick surface. The tentacle quivered in what might have been smug satisfaction.
Emberlynn clapped again, bouncing happily on her throne. “Yay! Friends forever~!”
Blitzo retched dramatically. “I hate my life.”
Two delicious choices shimmered in Emberlynn’s mind:
1. Blitzo has finally recovered enough demonic energy—and Emberlynn decides to have wild, hours-long sex with him again to fuel another massive growth spurt.
2. Emberlynn suddenly feels exhausted from the day’s magic and orgasms. She dismisses the tentacles (except for a few to act as her bed), curls up, and falls asleep—only to wake early the next morning, even stronger and more ambitious than before.
Blitzo dangled upside-down in front of her, wrists and ankles bound by thinner tendrils, pizza slice long since dropped and smeared on the carpet. His golden-orange face was flushed with fury and humiliation, purple hair hanging toward the floor.
“Why don’t you like my new friends, Blitzy-kun?” Emberlynn asked sweetly, tilting her head as her nail traced lazy circles on the tentacle’s skin. It quivered happily under her touch. “They’re so soft… so obedient… so much better than a grumpy little imp.”
Blitzo bared his sharp teeth. “They’re fucking disgusting. Slimy, brainless, creepy-ass rape-vines. Get ‘em away from me.”
Emberlynn giggled, high and childish. “Don’t tease the tiger, Blitzy~ Rawrr~!” She pulled her nail back and gave a tiny, playful roar, flexing her free arm so the bicep peaked dramatically under pale skin.
Blitzo rolled his eyes so hard it looked painful. “Your baby voice and kitten act stopped being cute five hours ago. Untie me, psycho.”
The tentacles around Emberlynn tightened slightly. She felt their agitation ripple through her subconscious—cold, possessive whispers overlapping like overlapping waves.
Queen… he insults us…
Disloyal… treacherous…
Remove him… he will betray…
She blinked, confused. “Wait… you guys don’t like him either?”
The whispers grew insistent. He schemes… he will turn… end him… serve only you…
Emberlynn frowned, then looked back at Blitzo with sharper eyes. “Explain. Right now. Why do my tentacles hate you so much?”
Blitzo clamped his mouth shut, glaring.
She leaned forward, throne shifting smoothly to bring her closer. “I asked you a question.”
Silence.
Her purple eyes narrowed. Rage flickered—small at first, then blooming hot and violet. The tentacles sensed it instantly. They were extensions of her now; her anger became theirs. The ones holding Blitzo tightened until he hissed in pain.
“Talk,” she snapped.
Still nothing.
She raised one hand. A thin tentacle whipped forward and cracked across his chest, leaving a red welt. He yelped.
“Talk!”
Another lash. Another. Each strike made the whole room tremble as her fury fed the appendages.
Blitzo finally broke, snarling through gritted teeth. “Fine! Fuck! In our world—the other rings, whatever—tentacles and imps don’t mix. Never have. Tentacles are just… meat-puppets. Extensions of some big eldritch fucker that got chopped up or whatever. They’re loyal to whoever’s holding the leash until that guy dies. Absolute. No backtalk. No schemes.”
He spat to the side. “Imps? We’re bottom-tier. We survive by kissing ass to whoever’s stronger. But we’re still individuals. We’ll jump ship the second someone better shows up. That makes us useful… but also dangerous. Big eldritch assholes prefer tentacles because they never betray. Never plot. Never think for themselves. So yeah—tentacles get the cushy gigs serving cosmic gods. Imps get stuck doing grunt work and hoping the boss doesn’t squash us. Competition. Bad blood. That’s it.”
Emberlynn stared at him for a long moment.
Then she burst into delighted laughter.
“That’s hilarious!” she squealed, clapping her hands. “You’re jealous! My pretty tentacles are better employees than you~!”
She looked around at the writhing black limbs. “You hear that, Squishy-kun? Wiggly-chan? Blitzy-kun is just jealous because you’re more loyal!”
The tentacles pulsed happily, nuzzling her thighs.
She turned back to Blitzo with a childish pout. “No fighting in my house. You’re both mine. So you have to be friends. Right now.”
Blitzo’s eyes widened. “You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kidding me.”
She pouted harder. “Kiss and make up. Or I let Squishy-kun squeeze you until you pop.”
Blitzo stared at the nearest tentacle, which was already curling curiously toward his face. His stomach visibly turned.
“…Fuck my entire afterlife,” he muttered.
Emberlynn giggled and gestured. The tentacles lowered him slowly until his face hovered inches from the tip of one particularly thick, dripping appendage.
Blitzo gagged. “I’m gonna puke.”
“Do it,” she said sweetly.
He squeezed his eyes shut, leaned forward, and pressed the quickest, most disgusted peck imaginable against the slick surface. The tentacle quivered in what might have been smug satisfaction.
Emberlynn clapped again, bouncing happily on her throne. “Yay! Friends forever~!”
Blitzo retched dramatically. “I hate my life.”
Two delicious choices shimmered in Emberlynn’s mind:
1. Blitzo has finally recovered enough demonic energy—and Emberlynn decides to have wild, hours-long sex with him again to fuel another massive growth spurt.
2. Emberlynn suddenly feels exhausted from the day’s magic and orgasms. She dismisses the tentacles (except for a few to act as her bed), curls up, and falls asleep—only to wake early the next morning, even stronger and more ambitious than before.
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June 13
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