[ Words still fail to come properly, instead replaced with desperate moans and shuddering breaths. It's only when the witch gives her an enticing offer that she manages to say anything, her eyes glossy with desire, each syllable that spills from Inaba's lips heavy with need: ]
Will you make me feel good...? [ No, wait, she's already crumbling with just the light touches- ] Better than just this?
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Will you make me feel good...? [ No, wait, she's already crumbling with just the light touches- ] Better than just this?