Raphtalia wasn’t having a good day, and it wasn’t fair! It had started so well, a little solo exploration had lead her to a cave just full of treasure! All sorts of magic items and trinkets were hers for the taking, and while most of them hadn’t been all that powerful, they would at least sell for a decent amount of money. And then she’d found a set of armor, with stats so impressive that her eyes had gone wide, and that’s when her day had gone right down into the gutter. 

She paused, tugging at the top of her outfit to try and pull the cups a little higher. She felt so exposed, it was ridiculous! Every step made her body bounce and sway a little, and she was constantly worried that her breasts were coming to pop right out of her armor. The fact that it had done a good job keeping all her bits where there were supposed to be didn't give her much peace of mind, not compared to the feeling of cool air on parts of you that weren’t supposed to feel it. And there was so much more bouncing in this than her old armor!

“Kyaaaaaah, I hate this! Stupid armor and its stupid stats! Only perverts would appreciate something like this!”

She huffed giving her outfit another tug, the armor lifting her breasts for a moment, only to let them fall when she let go of the fabric. Her soft, heavy breasts bounced within the clutches of the bright fabric, rippling enticingly even as Raphtalia frowned.

“At least I can show off my tattoo,” she told herself, lower lip pushed out in a resigned pout as her finger traced over the maroon lines that sat above her cleavage, a nested design of interlocking circles. The fact that she could put it proudly on display was the only good thing about her new armor - if you could even call it armor.

It looked like a bunny suit she’d seen once when walking past some of the more perverse and seedy places in the city. A bright red leotard, cut to just barely hide her full, toned rump and show off plenty of cleavage. It was completely strapless, not a single part of it rising higher than her armpits - which was why Raphtalia had to keep stopping to tug at the cups that lifted and showed off her breasts. Her legs were covered by thin, black mesh that hugged her tight, and she had to wobble along on heels that were several inches tall.

And, hidden beneath her own beautiful tanuki tail, was a puffy little thing that was supposed to look like a bunny tail. It was held on by…. W-well, at least she’d been alone when she’d had to put that piece of the armor on. But it hadn’t worked otherwise, the stats had been garbage unless she’d been wearing the whole outfit! So she’d had to take the little piece of fluff and thick, soft silicone and…. She’d had to put it…

Raphtalia shook her head, cheeks burning red all over again as she let out a little whimper of unhappiness. It felt so weird and distracting, she could feel it shifting around inside of her whenever she walked. This couldn’t be the only thing she found in these caves, there was just no way! How could she go back to the others dressed like this, and carrying a handful of trinkets, it would be so embarrassing! 

“I can’t go back like this,” she complained to herself, picking her way through the twisting caves. “T-there has to be something better in here.”

Maybe she’d just sell it before she went back, money would be better than having to run around in such ridiculous armor. But the stats were so good, more than triple what her old armor had, and the idea of giving up so much power rubbed her the wrong way. 

“Something, there has to be some - oh!”

Coming around a corner, she saw a small chest down a narrow tunnel. It was made of solid, dark wood and bound in what looked like shining, polished brass. The lid was slightly open, revealing the treasure inside. There was the handle of some kind of weapon sticking out of the open chest, gleaming in the uncertain torchlight. It looked like the pommel of a sword, and power radiated off of it, magic literally dripping down in a stream of shining sparkles that poured toward the rough stone floor like a trail of falling stars. It was, maybe, the most beautiful thing Raphtalia had ever seen in her life, and she didn’t even bother trying to contain a squeal of glee as she rushed across the cave toward it, headless of traps or trouble. 

That was her golden ticket! Who cared about the stats on her armor if she had a sword like that! She could toss the stupid bunny suit in the trash and still walk out of here with the kind of big, juicy numbers that would catch Iwatani‘s eye. 

Grabbing the lid of the chest Raphtalia threw it open and then stared down into the box with glee that slowly turned into confusion. The sword was just a hilt, there was no blade attached to it at all. And while magic looked to be leaking off of it, when she reaching out to touch it the tanuki warrior realized that it was nothing more than a simple illusion. There was no magic to it, just a broken blade in a shallow chest…

Shallow? Why was it shallow? The chest came up her mid-thigh, but there looked to be only half a foot of space inside of it. Just a red floor that shifted and moved as she stared at it in confusion, rippling and then rising up like… A tongue?

“Oh, noooooo,” Raphtalia moaned, as she felt a warm wetness on her hands, and looked at them to see drool slowly oozing from the lid of the chest. The tongue lolled out, along with a half dozen tentacles that flashed out at her, wrapping around her shoulders as she let out a cry of disgust. Each one was about as thick as her wrist, glistening with some sort of natural slime or lubrication. They slipped across her skin and clothing as she tried to back away, holding her even as she fumbled with her sword. 

It wasn’t a chest at all, it was a mimic! A type of monster that pretended to be mundane objects to lure its prey in. And this one had tricked her with nothing more than a fake magic sword! Its looping tentacles held her fast as its tongue reached out toward her, sticky and hot as it pressed against her leotard, letting her feel the damp heat through the cloth as it dragged its tongue back and forth, as though trying to feel out what sort of prey she was. 

“Let me… go!” she snarled, her hand managing to get to the hilt of her sword, despite the tentacles that pinned her shoulders to her side. Drawing it was a difficult matter, but she was inching it out of its sheathe as the tongue quested higher and higher, leaving a dark smear on her clothing as it worked upward. She didn’t relish the thought of it reaching her bare skin, and her struggles redoubled as it found her breasts. 

The tongue seemed to pause for a moment, wiggling beneath one of her breasts and giving it a little flick that made it bounce. Hefting it, as though the mimic were testing the weight of fruit at the market. It bounced her breast, making low noises like creaking wood. It sounded almost excited as it let its tongue drift even higher, finding Raphtalia’s bare skin as she let out a squeak of disgusted protest. Against her skin, the tongue felt slimy, a humid heat that traced the edge of her armor before plunging underneath it. Slick, monster tongue found the space between her armor and her breasts, and the poor tanuki’s face burned with humiliation and outrage as the thing lapped at her tits, smearing saliva all across their surface and leaving the cloth of her armor damp and clinging.

Flicking at her nipples with its tongue, the monstrous chest gave out a wooden groan, its tentacles tightening as its tongue seemed to grow more frantic. Playing with the tips of her nipples, giving them little flicks and wrapping around them to pinch and tug at the tender nubs. The mimic’s tongue was remarkably dexterous, and Raphtalia let out a shivery noise of protest and disgust as it touched her. No one had ever laid their hands on her body like this, even Iwatani had blanched at so much as looking at her tattoo, and yet this monster was helping itself to her. 

With a ring of steel, the flushed tanuki managed to her sword free. Raphtalia's arms were still pinned awkwardly, but she managed to get a decent grip and bring the blade down on the monster with all the force she could muster. Her sword hit the wood of its upper lid, but it was like old hardwood, all she managed was to send a small chip of wood flying away as her sword was turned aside. The mimic made another creaking, snapping noise like a ship’s mast in a gale, and its grip loosened for a moment, though it was more from surprise than pain. But it was enough for Raphtalia to rip herself free and try to run, showing her back to the monster as she tried to sprint out of its reach. But she wasn’t used to heels, and she stumbled, slower than she would have been in her normal armor. She squeaked a curse, trying to catch herself and keep moving, but it was too late. Tentacles lashed out from the mimic, wrapping around her ankles and sealing her fate. More followed, grabbing her wrists and dragging her backward. 

The tentacles squeezed painfully hard, sliding across each other as they tightened, making sure of their grip so there'd be no further escape. For a moment the two were locked into a nearly equal contest, tanuki and monster locked in a stalemated struggle. But the mimic was inhuman, and it kept pulling even as Raphtalia’s muscles began to quake, threatening to give out as she desperately strained against her captor. She just needed a single hand free, but she couldn’t manage and she felt herself faltering. 

First a single step backward, her high heel clattering against the stone and then slipping when she couldn’t find immediate purchase. Then another stumbling step back and another, her resistance faltering and crumbling against the beast’s strength. With a heave of its arms, she felt her feet leave the ground for a moment before she landed, still stumbling. Like a stone rolling down a hill, every inch she gave accelerated her fall backward. Within seconds those slimy lengths flexed, heaving her completely up off the ground, and then all she could do was thrash madly against its grip as more tentacles spooled out to meet her. 

They weren’t content with just holding her now that they had her, they almost seemed to want to enjoy her! Their tips rubbed along her thighs, finding the tiny holes in her stockings and ripping them open so they could squirm beneath the tight mesh and across her bare skin. All the beautiful, wonderful stats on her armor seemed to mean nothing to the mimic as it dragged itself along her pale skin, leaving glistening trails as it tightened around her strong, thick thighs. Pulsing squeezes feeling like gropes as it dragged her closer and closer. 

Tentacles trailed along her sides and stroked along her face. They wrapped around her waist and all of them tugged and yanked, pulling her back against the hard, wooden shell of the mimic’s body and then up over the edge. For a moment, she wondered if it planned to eat her, if the lip would slam shut and that would be the end of her. But while she was pulled against the soft, wet warmth of its interior it didn’t clamp shut or grow teeth. It merely held her tight against itself, its broad tongue pressing against her as it restrained her so thoroughly she could barely manage to twitch a hand. 

Her thighs burned as it drew her legs up and back, folding her nearly in half to prevent her from getting the least bit of leverage. It was a good thing she was so flexible, or it might have been painful rather than uncomfortable as it ratcheted her legs up around her ears, her heels bouncing right next to her head as she tried vainly to struggle. She may not have been familiar with the pose herself, but like the bunny suit, it was a hint to her fate - the nasty monster holding her in a depraved breeding press.

Its broad tongue squirmed up between her thighs, finding a place for itself right against her crotch. Raphtalia’s face burned with shame, but despite her struggles, she couldn’t get away. Her new position gave her no way to exert her strength, nothing to push against as she tried to free herself. The tentacles were like shackles as they held her still, groping her thighs and pushing under her armor to play with her saliva-slicked breasts. More squeezed and played with her ass or rubbed against her face. 

The tongue was focused on her crotch though, smothering her cunt in damp heat, licking and pushing against the fabric of her armor until it was so wet it was practically molded to her mound. Every inch of it was perfectly outlined by the clinging fabric as the mimic licked and lapped at the poor, blushing tanuki. Its motives were perfectly apparent now, even to the sexually naive Raphtalia - it may have been hungry, but it certainly didn’t plan on eating her. It was set on sating a different kind of hunger. 

“Couldn’t you have at least taken me out first? You’re not supposed to touch a girl like that without at least buying her dinner!” she cried, too frantic to realize how silly her words sounded when directed at a monster.

It certainly didn’t seem to care about social conventions, a tentacle had found her armor’s tail and was tugging at the little, cottony pom-pom and making Raphtalia grunt in discomfort. The tail was… well, it was held in by a thick little plug of silicone, and each tug made her poor pucker stretch and sting. The mimic seemed to enjoy the sounds she was making because it kept pulling and releasing, toying with removing the plug but never fully withdrawing it. 

“You have to treat a girl special if you’re going to do… t-this kind of thing,” she pleaded, voice shaking. Her face was bright red and she desperately wanted to hide behind her hands, but the tentacles kept her hands locked helplessly out at her sides. 

Her voice cracked as a pressing tentacle found the edge of her armor and coiled around the crotch, tugging it aside so the tongue could press directly against her heated mound. In an instant it was soaked in drool (and only drool!), dripping hot as the tongue dragged along her slit and pressed against her clit, grinding the little bundle of nerves and making Raphtalia’s leg kick. It…. it was disgusting and gross and her eyes squeezed shut as she tried to ignore a thrill of pleasure as the mimic teased her clit. Whatever disgusting things she could say about it, it certainly knew what it was doing.

And maybe the mimic was tired of her nonsensical pleas because a tentacle found her parted lips and shoved forward. The tanuki gagged in surprise as a thick, squirming length pressed into her mouth and crashed against the back of her throat. The taste on her tongue was strange, but even more strangely it wasn’t entirely unpleasant. Salt and cedar rubbed across her tastebud as the slick tentacle squirmed in her mouth, bulging first one cheek and then the other, fighting to pin her tongue even as Raphtalia tried to spit it out. The two wet muscles pushed and slipped against each other, and while the tanuki was outmatched she wasn’t about to surrender. 

At least, she wasn’t planning on it, but yet another tentacle had spooled out, and while the mimic continued to lick at her clit, this new tentacle was pressing against her lips, making her eyes go wide. Her tongue stopped resisting, letting the tentacle in her mouth press forward, finding her throat and slipping down to make her neck bulge ever so slightly. The poor tanuki gagged, and it withdrew, waiting for her to catch her composure before pressing forward again, testing her limits even as it stroked and worked her pussy.

Rapthalia couldn’t claim that her thighs were damp only because of the mimic’s tongue anymore, her pussy was reacting to its ministrations with gusto. Arousal shimmered and ran down her thighs, her pussy clenching and dripping as it touched her like no one ever had. The poor girl had barely even experimented with her own hand, and now the mimic was messily devouring her cunt like it was the last meal it would ever eat. The pleasure was overwhelming, and she felt something in her brain creak and crack under the pressure of enjoyment. She realized she hadn’t been fighting for several minutes, just relaxing in the mimic’s grip. 

She tensed, and the mimic yanked, popping the plug right out of her ass and making her grunt around the tentacle in her throat. Her poor little rump gaped for a moment, unused to this kind of treatment, and that meant it was perfectly ready for a tentacle to press in, driving straight up into her guts. The tanuki jerked, back arching as her eyes went wide, but while she wanted to scream nothing but a gurgling moan came out as the mimic continued to pump her throat and work her clit, pleasure easing the penetration even as it pressed deep. 

And when its tongue didn’t seem to be enough, and Raphtalia was still whimpering and groaning, the other tentacle pushed home. The tip slowly drove forward, prying her plush and soaked pussy lips apart so it could dip down into her folds. Soft, velvet walls clutched the slick tentacle, rippling and drawing it deeper as she helplessly clenched. She was still whining, her eyelids fluttering as the monster took her virginity, easing into her with careful, slow pressure that left her aching dully from the sheer stretch its size required, but never left her in pain. It moved slowly, finding a spot that made her gasp and working it for a moment, letting the pleasure build before it pressed forward once more onto a slightly deeper spot that made her toes curl. 

Slowly, inch by inch, it eased her into the sensations it was heaping onto her. Never overwhelming her, but slowly pushing more and more pleasure onto her body, as if it was testing to see what she could handle. And once it was sure she would hold up, that she couldn’t break under its assault, only then did it unleash itself on her. Slow, rocking pumps sped up into frantic, jackhammering thrusts that made the restrained tanuki tremble and bounce, the force rippling through her soft body as tentacles battered all three of her holes. Her neck bulged slightly, a rolling wave as the tentacle pushed and pulled, letting her breath but never giving her a rest. The two in her lower holes were just as ceaseless, battering against her body as pleasure rocked her brain. It hurt, but… the pain was small, swallowed up by the pleasure as the mimic used her freely and forcefully. 

The tentacles ground against each other inside of her body, touching and sliding as they pressed deep into her body. The thin wall of her was all that kept them apart, and they pushed together, bumping and sliding and nearly twining together in a motion that made Raphtalia scream, her voice a muffled vibration that tickled the fat shaft in her throat. They were completely, wonderfully smooth, but she could feel the heads bumping back and forth over each other, playing with her body and each other in a way no human could have managed. 

So malleable, they could reach all the little spots that made her body jerk and tremble. They could squish and flatten, too, never stretching her further than her body could take. They were using her like a toy, pumping every hole she had, but they never hurt her. And, in a way, that was almost worse. She could withstand pain, Raphtalia was a fighter and had taken her share of wounds, but pleasure? She had no defenses against that, and she could feel her mind cracking a little further, spiderweb splinters running out across her resolve. 

Pressing deeper into her pussy, the twisting tentacle stroked along her walls, pressing against her g-spot and then gliding forward to knock against her cervix. It had hurt the first few times, a burst of pain making her breath hitch as it pushed on her tender barrier. But now it was just part of the pleasure, the sensation mixing with the pleasure to turn into a sharp knock that made her whimper around the tentacle in her mouth. It was… it was too much for the tanuki, and she mumbled a plea to the mimic. Then another, her voice growing louder, though no more distinct as she started to weakly struggle against its grasp. 

Was it actually listening to her? The tentacle dragged back out of her throat, slick and glistening with spit and foamy throat slop. Thick loops dangled from the length of monster meat, and ropes connected Raphtalia’s lips to the swaying appendage. Had the mimic understood her frantic, mumbled cries? Had it thought she needed air and pulled back to let her breath? There was no way to know, and the tanuki’s head was spinning too much for her to be able to dwell much on the question.

“P-please stop,” she whimpered, tears in her eyes. She could feel something inside of her, a tightness that was growing more and more brittle each second. A spring wound too tight and about to snap. She felt it inside herself and she shook her head, trying to deny it. 

“You h-have to stop. Please. I don’t… I don’t want to… Not like this, not with… not with you! Please…. Please, I... I…”

But her body couldn’t be denied, even as her mind tried to resist her body had completely given itself over to the monstrous lover that cradled her against itself. It may not have been Iwatani but her body didn’t care, it only cared about the pleasure that filled her. Raphtalia’s toes curled, her muscles tensing and flexing uselessly as her body tightened and... And…

“Please! You’re going to make me lose my mind! It’s too much! I... Iwatani, you have to save me or I’m going to lose my miiaaaaaaaaah~!”

Raphtalia came. It was an ugly, shuddering orgasm and it hit her like a spirit tortoise, pleasure nearly crushing her mind. She jerked and spasmed against the mimic’s grasp, her muscles painfully tight as her whole body tried to curl up around itself. Raphtalia had never actually been with a man before, never experienced anything sexual in the least, and her first orgasm was almost brutal in its overwhelming ecstasy. Her mind was blank, white, and fragmented as pleasure ripped through her body, leaving her open-mouthed as she cried out. 

The mimic kept working her body, too. Tentacles never stilling, pumping and sliding inside of her even as her body was wracked with agonized pleasure, her walls trembling and clenching. Painfully sensitive, but that didn’t seem to matter at all to the monster. Even as each stroke of its tentacles made her cry out again, lighting spikes of agonized pleasure cracking through her empty mind as it kept going, dragging her orgasm out for more than a minute, milking the pleasure until Raphtalia had gone limp in its arms, her breath coming in ragged gasps that didn’t seem to pull enough oxygen in. 

It was the best thing she’d ever felt, and it had come at the touch of a monster, not her heroic Iwatani. She slumped, glassy-eyed, against the mimic, her chest rising and falling as she gasped and panted, mouth open and drool spilling from the corner of her lips. Was that… normal? Was that what it was supposed to feel like? She’d heard other women talking about sex, even if she’d never tried it, but they’d often been complaining about men who left them unsatisfied, or couldn’t last long enough - but the mimic was still going, its tentacles still working to please her body!

And she could feel another orgasm already coming, slowly brewing and coming together inside her body even as she struggled to recover from the one that had already cracked her mind and her resistance. Some party of her that had already broken like cheap glass during her first orgasm felt slightly proud that her lover wasn’t going to leave her unsatisfied. 

Another tentacle spooled out in front of Raphtalia’s unfocused eyes, and she struggled to understand what she was looking at. It seemed to be holding something - a small rod that looked almost like a pen, with magic sparking on the tip of it. Her brain wasn’t working properly, still trying to put a coherent thought together after the crushing pressure of her orgasm, so she couldn’t quite understand what it was doing until the rod pressed against her stomach, just above her womb, and started to drag along her skin, leaving behind a maroon line the same color as the tattoo on her breasts.

And each touch of the rod felt good. No, better than good, it felt amazing. Every stroke made Raphtalia cry out, her voice cracking as her back arched and her body tensed like a bow against the mimic’s loving grasp. It tingled against her skin and sent warmth pouring into her body. Pleasure that danced along heated nerves, making her toes curl and her eyes squeeze shut even as her pussy clenched desperately around the pushing, pounding length of tentacle inside of her. 

Slowly, right above her womb, the mimic drew a stylized image of a treasure chest nested within a trio of circles. Her own tattoo, modified slightly by the monster that held her and continued to heap pleasure she had never wanted onto her twitching, shivering body. Each stroke of the rod was precise and perfect, as good as the artist who had given her the original tattoo. Despite the way her body shook and jerked, the tentacle never slipped or made a bad stroke. Slowly, it drew and made its captive whine and gasp in pleasure as it marked her. As its property? As its prey? Or was there something more going on? Because there was more than just pleasure that came from each stroke of the enchanted rod, there was also a desperate, feverish warmth that made her twist and whine as is it built up in the very core of her body. Each stroke was pouring magic into her body, making her feel an aching need that seemed to glow and grow inside her womb itself, burning bright until she was practically screaming, pleading with her mimic in a breaking voice that she needed it to go faster, needed it to give her relief. 

It obeyed her, too, its tentacles speeding up, pounding into her tight holes as she cried out, hands flexing uselessly as she bounced with each rough slam of her lover’s tentacles. But it just wasn’t enough, the heat was still building as the mimic continued to mark her skin. Her first tattoo had been a little painful, and she’d almost cried because of the needle, but this felt nothing but good, even if it was a torturous sort of pleasure. 

Raphtalia came again, her quivering cunt tightening so hard that the mimic had to stop pumping for a moment, her walls crushing around the tentacle as her thighs shivered. Warm, sweet honey rolled down the swelling curve of her ass and dripped off the tentacle as she cried out again. And this time, as she cried out, it wasn’t to Iwatani for help. This time her voice rang with nothing but pure, unfiltered pleasure, and even to her own ears, it sounded so much sweeter than when she’d cried out to the shield hero. Raphtalia let the pleasure wrap her up, surrendering herself to her embrace. Why would she want to fight against something that felt so good?

The tension inside her broke, but the heat didn’t dissipate, it merely moved. She could feel it rising from where it had gathered in her core to wash through her body like boiling water poured into a new container. She felt so flushed, she wouldn’t have been surprised to see steam rising from her skin as it flowed upward, a waterfall of steam and heat that left her panting, her skin flushed red as the warmth seemed to pour into her breasts. They felt hotter and heavier than they had a moment before, the skin tender to the touch and tingling. She felt strangely full, though she couldn’t understand how or why. The magic in the tattoo was doing something to her, and she wasn’t sure what. 

The mimic was there to soothe her, though, the tentacles that had played with her breasts now looping fully around them. Gentle squeezes soothed some of the aching heat, but it was merely temporary relief and the minute they stopped squeezing the painful and demanding heat came flooding back.

“M-more,” Raphtalia managed, her voice shaking as she actually urged the monster to help her. She wasn’t fighting anymore, her limbs limp and loose as she rested back against its body. And it was trying to help her, easing her through the effects of the magic. Its tentacles rolled down her breasts, from base to tip, giving her nipples a little tug and a flick before moving back to the base and starting all over again. Slow, rhythmic motions that eased the ache and helped soothe the pain away until it felt good. A pleasurable, tingling warmth that slowly spread through her breasts as the mimic milked her. 

That was what the motion was, milking. Like a farmer working a cow, it was working her tits, squeezing and tugging and massaging her tender breasts as she gasped and whimpered. It creaked and groaned softly beneath her, like a reassuring voice as she gave herself over to it. It had made her feel so good, why should she fight?

She gasped, shivering and jerking as the first drop leaked from her hard, tingling nipple. Only a single drop at first, and then another and another. Patient, loving tentacles squeezed and worked her breasts in slow motions from base to tip, massaging the tender tissue and coaxing milk free. From the weak trickle came a slow wash, sweet and warm cream running down her bouncing breasts for the mimic’s hungry tongue to find. The thick, drooling muscle lashing against her, hungrily slurping up the mess she was making. Her thoughts were fuzzy as she watched it drink, something almost like a smile on her lips. This was what it had been after all along? Well, it seemed like a fair trade, a meal for the most mind-breaking pleasure she’d ever imagined. Better than any fantasy or daydream, her mimic lover had given her ecstasy, and the least she could do was repay him. 

“Y-you should come with me,” she slurred, her voice thick and shaky as she relaxed back against the monster. No longer straining against its grip, but letting it cradle and hold her like a lover. “Why wait in some dark cave and hope someone comes along? You could... you could come with me and I’ll make sure you get fed every night!”

The tongue kept moving, licking up the milk it was working from her breasts, drinking with desperate hunger even as it continued to pleasure her, tentacles pumping and sliding deep inside her body, every thrust making her bounce against its gentle grasp. 

“We… nnngh… We’ll tell people you’re my luggage and… haaaah~ I’ll make sure to feed you every night, okay? Just… s-say yes and we can do this every night! P-please, say yes...”

The mimic seemed to pause, its tongue going still as she practically pleaded it to come with her. From unwilling to addicted, Raphtalia couldn’t imagine going without her mimic’s attention, and her heart hammered in her chest as she waited and worried. Had it understood? Did it know what she was saying? 

But then its tongue shifted, no longer drinking from her breast but moving so it drag a long lick up the side of her face. It was an affectionate gesture, and Raphtalia let out a squeal of delight, twisting her head so she could catch the tongue between her lips, sucking gently on it for a moment before she pulled back, beaming happily. That was a ‘yes’ if she’d ever heard one. 

Forget armor or a magic sword, she’d found the best possible treasure today!