[He calls her name, and she tries crying out back. Muffled noises that ring in her throat signal she's still alive, but where she is...
All she can do is watch. Watch as those tentacles fondle and explore him. Smear against his skin and tease his flesh. Even if his clothes hide it, the scene is almost more tantalizing with implication that way. Especially since she can feel the way those tendrils move against her. Understanding what the tentacles want, and realizing they're not in any real danger, kills her will to fight back.
Instead desire takes the forefront of her thoughts as she doesn't struggle against the tentacles curled around and spreading her legs. There is no fight to shake them off or hurt them. Instead all she tries to do is attempt crawling to get back to Fuuta. He shouldn't be worried. He doesn't deserve to be so afraid—
The first thing to go is Fuuta's hoodie. So big and baggy that it's easily yanked right off him without even tearing. Next the tentacles begin tugging at his clothes. After all, it cannot play with its potential mates in tandem if so many barriers exist. Yet that doesn't stop the other dark, ink-black limbs from continuing to write and search under his clothes. Slipping under fabric and seeking warm flesh — eagerly slithering between the cheeks of his ass to start its preparations for it's main goal.]
no subject
All she can do is watch. Watch as those tentacles fondle and explore him. Smear against his skin and tease his flesh. Even if his clothes hide it, the scene is almost more tantalizing with implication that way. Especially since she can feel the way those tendrils move against her. Understanding what the tentacles want, and realizing they're not in any real danger, kills her will to fight back.
Instead desire takes the forefront of her thoughts as she doesn't struggle against the tentacles curled around and spreading her legs. There is no fight to shake them off or hurt them. Instead all she tries to do is attempt crawling to get back to Fuuta. He shouldn't be worried. He doesn't deserve to be so afraid—
The first thing to go is Fuuta's hoodie. So big and baggy that it's easily yanked right off him without even tearing. Next the tentacles begin tugging at his clothes. After all, it cannot play with its potential mates in tandem if so many barriers exist. Yet that doesn't stop the other dark, ink-black limbs from continuing to write and search under his clothes. Slipping under fabric and seeking warm flesh — eagerly slithering between the cheeks of his ass to start its preparations for it's main goal.]