[ Denji's head rolls back with the pressure, not knowing what to expect, but innately understanding what was expected of her, and not to fight it. To keep going, keep doing it right, regardless of what insanities Aki tells her to commit.
For a passingly curious moment, she mistakes the hand in her tangled hair for a fonder touch, a gentler one, something meant for her. Bodies aren't just bulletin boards for human pains and accidents, she knows that, knows there should be tons of things that help you feel good, like a surprise gift or masturbating. Yet she looks up at Aki like this is newfound knowledge. Theory put into practice. Her stomach twists in a different way than it had before, singing with a bittersweetness that engulfs her whole torso, bleaches into her bones, holds her heart captive —
It doesn't matter how safe a driver someone is if their car engine's smoking from under the hood. If their passenger refuses to wear a seat belt. ]
Huh…?!
[ The instant Aki pushes her head down, Denji gasps open-mouthed into her covered cunt, eyesight nearly going white hot as a damp and sour musk infiltrates and overloads her senses. Her throat. Nose pressed into the warm cavity, she can't even bare to think of recoiling from it all, this sensation of being swaddled in a cloying musk. Part of it's because she's so seized by shock, but the feeling is muddled by — shuddering relief, too. ]
Holy shit, you're… melting, [ she moans in-between her legs. And then her mouth is moving, stretching through the fabric, tipping in to suck one of her folds apart from the other. Her own thighs squirm and squelch with an emptiness that positively hurts. She laps at barrier in frustration, spit and a very different stickiness pooling, intermixing, growing the stain through her panties. ]
no subject
For a passingly curious moment, she mistakes the hand in her tangled hair for a fonder touch, a gentler one, something meant for her. Bodies aren't just bulletin boards for human pains and accidents, she knows that, knows there should be tons of things that help you feel good, like a surprise gift or masturbating. Yet she looks up at Aki like this is newfound knowledge. Theory put into practice. Her stomach twists in a different way than it had before, singing with a bittersweetness that engulfs her whole torso, bleaches into her bones, holds her heart captive —
It doesn't matter how safe a driver someone is if their car engine's smoking from under the hood. If their passenger refuses to wear a seat belt. ]
Huh…?!
[ The instant Aki pushes her head down, Denji gasps open-mouthed into her covered cunt, eyesight nearly going white hot as a damp and sour musk infiltrates and overloads her senses. Her throat. Nose pressed into the warm cavity, she can't even bare to think of recoiling from it all, this sensation of being swaddled in a cloying musk. Part of it's because she's so seized by shock, but the feeling is muddled by — shuddering relief, too. ]
Holy shit, you're… melting, [ she moans in-between her legs. And then her mouth is moving, stretching through the fabric, tipping in to suck one of her folds apart from the other. Her own thighs squirm and squelch with an emptiness that positively hurts. She laps at barrier in frustration, spit and a very different stickiness pooling, intermixing, growing the stain through her panties. ]