Chapter Text
Poor Nelle knew it was coming.
She had felt it this morning, her heat cycle was about to start. She needed to escape the house today before you found out. Nelle is a Tentacle demi-human, and although heat cycles are normal in her species, unmated individuals such as herself usually only have it once a year.
But for Nelle, it’s happening more often. Rumour says that living with the object of one’s love and “unbonded” will increase its frequency. Supposedly, nature’s way to maximize the chances of mating, via pheromonal signalling, or at least it is supposed to. Sadly, for Nelle, she isn’t in love with another tentacle demi-human. She is in love with her saviour, Y/n.
Well, Saviour is a big word, anyone seeing them would think they were just roommates, family, every version of domesticity possible except romantic, to her own chagrin. You and her live in a woodland house near a quaint village ever since she could remember. Nelle’s first memories of… well, anything was you. You, pulling her out of a river, sharp pain aching in her side. You were crying as you were trying to stitch up her wounds. You are asleep by her bedside. Ever since then, Nelle has been smitten by you. You were both so young. You used to call her your “Jewel,” always saying that the shine of her tentacles in the sun was more beautiful than the most precious jewel.
Nelle snapped out of her daydream when she heard you opening your bedroom door. She couldn’t let you see her in that state, she wouldn’t be able to hold back, and she’d get rejected. She flies to the nearest room and hides behind the laundry room’s door. In the last few years, you had been more distant and colder with her. You used to pat her tentacles gently, hug her, and hold her hand. But ever since she had grown up. You had reduced the physical contact to a minimum. Nelle was convinced that her tentaclesque nature was at fault. She backs away from the door, hoping to stay hidden, but ends up slipping on a rag left on the floor, taking a laundry basket down with her. As she tried to get back up, amidst the laundry pile around, Nelle spots it, and her composure cracks.
Last night had been rough for you, dreams and nightmares plagued by your inner tormentors, the voice of the village's matrons gossiping and judging anything out of their taste, whispering how much you needed to get in shape. Despite all the darkness, something always pulled you out of it, something that shone brighter than the sun, more precious than any jewel, who’d come and save you, hold you. Tho last night the dream went further than simple comfort, and you had to go change your underwear in the middle of the night, hiding it in the dirty laundry basket. Enough bed rotting, you decide to finally get up and get dressed. You always had a fuller figure than most, you sigh at the sight of your naked figure. You weren’t always so insecure about your looks, but puberty has really done a number on your self-esteem, especially as your childhood puppy crush on Nelle cemented into a profound truth. But the dissonance between your complete disgust at your reflection and your absolute admiration of Nelle’s made you deathly afraid of intimacy, no matter how much you craved it, no matter how much your body craved it. You put on a simple shirt and skirt. Your heart ached as you remembered the last glance Nelle had given you last night. She’d disappear again today, you didn’t know the why. Maybe she had found a lover…
You walk out of your room and faintly hear Nelle's voice coming from the laundry room, so glad to know she was there. As you approach, you notice that the door is slightly ajar.
It was there, right in front of her, she could sense the pheromones, and she could still see the love shine on the fabric. Those were yours and had been on you not long ago. It was too much, her heat was in full swing, she couldn’t breathe, she needed to get out of this laundry pile that smelled like you, and her eye landed on them again. What could have caused you to have such a reaction? Who ignited your heart and body? Nelle was trying to process and keep her composure when the image of you flooded her mind, lusting after another. Her heart broke.
But she needed it, she couldn't resist. Nelle’s tentacles started to get a goopier sheen, engorging, writhing with need. It was too much, she needed to touch herself now. Nelle’s hand finding their place between her legs, and she starts masturbating with the panties. She needs you; she wants you; she yearns for you. And before she could stop herself, she said it, "Oh gods, Y/N, please..."
You approach the door and are braced with a sight you’d never thought possible. Nelle is… well, obviously touching herself with something. You are mesmerized by the display; this is more beautiful than in your dreams. Despite your growing arousal, you rip yourself away from the door and start to walk away, convinced she wouldn’t want you to see her like this. Until you hear Nelle’s cry, “Oh gods, Y/N, please...”
You turn around, any rational thinking goes out the window, and you open the door. “Nelle…?”
She freezes mid-action and, and to her horror, makes eye contact with you. Panties pressed against herself. Face flushed, tentacles writhing wildly, “Y/n, ...I-I didn't...oh gods...”
Her voice cracks as she tries to cover herself with her tentacles, realizing too late how exposed she is, how the scent of her arousal fills the cramped laundry room. Your hand stuck on the doorknob, eyes wide.
"You were...you said my..." The words die in your throat as you take in the scene, Nelle's trembling form, the telltale slick sounds, that unmistakable musk mixing with her own lingering scent as you notice what she is holding.
The moment your eyes land on the damp fabric in her hands, Nelle's entire body burns with shame. She wants to disappear, to melt into the floorboards, anything but face the revulsion, she’s sure, is coming. Tentacles thrashing defensively as she scrambles backward, knocking over detergent bottles.
"P-please don't look! I'm disgusting, I know, just -" A particularly sensitive tentacle twitches violently against her inner thigh, betraying how close she still is despite the shame burning through her.
At this spectacle, all your inhibitions shatter, and before you can stop yourself, you practically lunge forward, fear filling Nelle's eyes, before surprise takes over as you crash your lips together in a desperate, clumsy kiss. Your soft body presses flush against Nelle's trembling figure. Her tentacles wrap around your plush thighs instinctively before she can stop them, the slick warmth emanating from them undeniable as your kiss steals her breath.
"Y/N...?" She whimpers in question, against her saviour's lips, trembling with years of pent-up longing finally unleashed in this desperate, clumsy collision of bodies.
Abruptly, you snap out of your daze, realizing you just forced yourself on Nelle, you are horrified by your actions and convinced Nelle is disgusted by you now.
“I am so sorry, I shouldn't have done that, I had no right!” You start to get up to leave.
She tightens her tentacles around your waist with surprising strength, pulling you back down onto the pile of laundry.
"D-don't you dare run away now,” she pants, breath hot against your neck as one slick tendril curls possessively around your wrist. "Not after I've waited...so many years..."
Your breath hitches as the slick appendage glides over your bare skin, sending sparks through your body. You want this to be true, you’ve dreamed of it, but there is a part of doubt. Nelle isn’t in her right mind. Do you even have the right to touch her?
"Nelle, you're clearly not in the right state, you don't.” Your protest dies in your throat as another tentacle curls around your arm. They tighten instinctively as you try to pull away, their slick surfaces gliding against your soft skin with an almost desperate possessiveness.
"You idiot,” she whispers hoarsely, “do you have any idea how many nights I've spent aching for you? How many times I've imagined you pinning me down while I-” Her voice halts as a particularly sensitive tentacle twitches against your inner thigh.
“Fuck it” you thought, as you start making out with her, unbuttoning her shirt, but not your own. “I have been dreaming of you for so long, I am still not sure if this is just a dream, but I don't care.” Your voice cracks a little at the end of those words.
Hearing that, Nelle’s tentacles lurch forward, pinning your wrist to the washing machine as you arch against her.
“Then let me make it real,” she purrs, breath turns unsteady as her tentacles coil progressively higher around your bare thighs, “let me show you exactly how long I've wanted this.”
You gasp as Nelle's tendrils slide under your shirt, their warm suction leaving goosebumps in their wake.
“W-wait-” Your protest dies in her throat when a particularly dexterous tentacle flicks open your bra clasp with practiced ease, removing it, the damp air suddenly intimate against your bare skin.
Nelle’s gaze is glued to you as she finally sees what she has fantasized about for years, your full breasts heaving with each nervous breath.
“Gods, you're more beautiful than I imagined”, she murmurs, tracing trembling fingers along the stretch marks she had secretly admired whenever you changed clothes, her tentacles already mapping every soft curve with possessive reverence.
You shiver as Nelle's tentacles slither under her skirt waistband, the cool air hitting your damp thighs just before warm suction cups latch onto her soft skin.
“N-Nelle, you don't have to-” Your protest dissolves into a moan when a slick tendril circles just above your underwear with torturous precision, the very touch you had fantasized about during lonely nights now a reality.
Nelle’s breath catches as she watches you unravel beneath her, the way her saviour’s body trembles against the washing machine, making her tentacles twitch with need.
“Shhh, let me worship you properly,” she murmurs against your collarbone, tasting salt and nervous sweat as her tongue follows the path of a particularly sensitive tentacle now coiling around your nipple, the same one she'd glimpsed years ago by accident and never forgotten.
Your back arches involuntarily as that clever tendril teases your most sensitive points, your hands struggling against your restraints.
“B-but you...” you gasp, trying to come up with some sort of complaint, still convinced this is some fever dream where you’re allowed to be wanted like this, where Nelle's desperate whimpers aren't just pity for her pathetic friend.
A frustrated growl escapes her throat as she catches your hesitant hands mid-air, pressing them firmly against the slick heat between her own thighs.
“Stop thinking,” she pants against your lips, guiding those trembling fingers deeper into her molten core, “just feel how hungry you make me, how long I've needed this, how badly I want you inside me”.
Your fingers stutter against Nelle's dripping folds, your throat tightens at the sheer intensity of heat enveloping you, nothing like the tentative fantasies you had in the dark, alone. The reality is overwhelming, the way Nelle's hips jerk forward into your touch, the desperate little whines escaping clenched teeth, the possessive coil of tentacles keeping you trapped exactly where she needs you to be.
“You're...you're really...” you choke out, unable to articulate how earth-shattering it is to feel wanted like this. You ferociously kiss and make out with Nelle. As you start playing with her clitoris with your thumb and slowly teasing her entrance with a surprising amount of skill. Nelle’s tentacles writhe wildly as your fingers find that perfect rhythm inside her, the sudden expertise making her arch with a broken cry.
“W-when did you- ah! -learn to do that?” she gasps, her suction cups leaving red marks along your shoulders as she clings desperately.
Your lips curve against Nelle's throat between panting kisses.
“M-maybe I practiced... thinking of you,” you admit with a shaky laugh, your hand still working Nelle's clit with trembling precision, amazed at how the tentacle girl convulses around you so much more responsive than you had ever dared imagine. You delight in it, every twitch, every breath, all influenced by your movements.
She comes undone under your hand, her saviour’s hand, her love, her light, the one she has been thinking about every night.
“Y-Y/n! Y/n! Y/n -n!” She screams, her voice echoing through the laundry room as her tentacles tighten around you, her hips bucking wildly against your fingers.
Your heart flutters at the raw need in Nelle's voice, the way your name is screamed like a prayer. Your fingers slow but do not stop, gently milking Nelle through the aftershocks as she nuzzles into the crook of your neck.
“Shhh, I've got you...I've always got you...”
Her tentacles go slack with spent pleasure, catching her breath, before suddenly surging back to life, flipping their positions with startling strength until you are pinned beneath her on the laundry pile.
“My turn!” she purrs, her voice still rough from screaming as her slick tendrils slide up your trembling thighs, “let me show you how a tentacle girl properly shows thanks.”
A whimper escapes your throat when Nelle drags you into a kiss with possessive hunger, your hands fluttering uncertainly against Nelle's waist.
“Y-you don't have to-” you whimper between breaths, still unable to believe this isn't some elaborate pity fuck.
Your body tenses when a particularly thick tentacle presses insistently against your soaked panties. She nips at your lower lip in gentle reprimand, her voice thick with affection and lust.
“Stop that”, she murmurs, trailing wet kisses down your trembling neck as her tentacles make quick work of the remaining barriers between them, “let me love you properly for once.”
Her breath staggers as she finally sees your body fully exposed, every soft curve she'd fantasized about now trembling beneath her. Your thighs instinctively squeeze together when Nelle's tentacles glide along your dripping folds, your entire body trembling with pent-up need.
“I-I don't...” you whisper, biting your lower lip hard enough to leave marks, unable to shake off your inner saboteur telling you that Nelle's attentions are born of obligation rather than genuine desire. She pauses mid-stroke, her amber eyes darkening with frustrated affection.
“You are beautiful, stubborn fool,” she murmurs, pressing your foreheads together as a particularly dexterous tendril slowly penetrates you with reverent precision.
“Do you really think I stole your underwear just for the fabric?” Her voice drops to a husky whisper as her hips grind down.
“Let me show you how badly I want this.” Your pulse stutters when Nelle’s thickest tentacle penetrates with agonizing slowness, the slick muscle pulsing against your oversensitive clit.
“N-Nelle, I-” your protest dissolves into a broken moan as the tentacle suddenly thrusts deep, its tapered tip curling.
Her hips roll in slow, possessive circles as she watches your face contort with pleasure, her own breath ragged.
"Fuck, you take me so well," she murmurs, her voice thick with awe as another tentacle coils around each of your individual breasts, «just like I dreamed, every night, for years."
Your thighs quiver as Nelle's tentacles fill and stretch you in ways no fingers ever could, your moans dissolving into incoherent whimpers when a particularly clever tendril finds that spot inside you that makes stars burst behind your eyelids. You claw desperately at Nelle's shoulders, your body arching off the laundry pile in silent, trembling surrender. As she watches mesmerized, you come undone beneath her, the way her saviour’s soft belly quivers with each thrust, her tentacles swelling possessively.
“That's it, sweetheart,” she coaxes between breathless kisses, her voice rough with lust and something dangerously close to love.
“Let me hear how good I'm making you feel, how perfect you are taking me.” Each strokes dragging choked sobs from your throat.
“N-never thought,” you gasp, your voice breaking when a particularly thick tendril presses against your cervix, “you'd w-want me like this!”
Her tentacles pulse possessively inside you as she leans down to capture her love’s lips in a searing kiss.
“You have no idea,” she growls against your mouth, her hips grinding down to drive her deeper. “How many nights I've touched myself imagining this exact moment, your perfect body trembling beneath me, those delicious sounds you make when I fill you just right.”
As the pressure inside you starts to build increasingly, your mind starts to go blank, only one thought remains.
“Nelle, oh gods, Nelle, my beautiful jewel. I lo-” you stop yourself, still unsure, still insecure.
Fucking is one thing, sexual attraction is one thing, but your brain still wonders if the romantic love is reciprocated? Tears meet on your chin. Slightly taken aback, Nelle slows her moves just enough to cup your tear-streaked face between trembling hands.
“Say it,” she whispers fiercely, her own voice cracking with emotion as her slick muscles pulse possessively inside.
“Say what you were going to, I need to hear it while I'm buried inside you.” She restarts with renewed fire, more passionate than before. It feels so good, you feel the pressure building up again, and you finally let go of that last chain.
“I LOVE YOU NELLE, I LOVE SO MUCH, I HAVE LOVED YOU SINCE THE FIRST DAY, I HAVE NEVER LOVED ANYONE SO BEAUTIFUL!” you cry out, holding your arms out in desperation, wanting to be close to your love, finally allowing yourself that request.
Nelle obeys, capturing your lips in a bruising kiss, deleting any negative space between her and you. One tentacle coils around your clit, while more joins into caressing your body, their slick surfaces vibrating as she speaks.
“I love you, too.”
A few tears also escape her eyes. Gods, how many nights of pain and loneliness did you both endure, thinking you were unloved by the person who actually desired you the most?
“I love you, Y/n, I love you, I love your mind, your heart, your body.” She noticed the slight shudder you had at the praise of your deepest insecurities. Nelle has seen you looking with horror and borderline hatred at your own body in the mirror before. It always broke her heart to have something she loved, adored, and lusted after being treated with such hatred.
"Y-you-" your fingers dig into Nelle's shoulders as the tendrils move in perfect rhythm inside you, the vibrations making your toes curl against the laundry pile.
“You really think I'm-oh gods-beautiful?” The question comes out broken between moans, decades of insecurity laid bare in that trembling whisper. Her tentacles pulse possessively in response.
“Every inch of you,” she growls against your throat, nipping at the soft skin there.
“These curves I've dreamed about sinking into these thighs I want wrapped around me, this perfect belly I want to cover in kisses until you believe me.” Her hips snap forward to emphasize each word.
Despite it all, despite yourself, your psyche, the praises sweet as honey from your love are really starting to build effect.
“More please... More...” You want more praise, but will Nelle give it to you? You are scared, and your mind is going back to those scary thoughts.
“My perfect Y/n,” she murmurs, her voice rough with adoration, “so responsive, so eager, do you know how gorgeous you look spread open for me? How I'd worship this body every day if you'd let me?” Her words drip with sincerity as her thickest tentacle curls against your G-spot.
You are so close, you gasp. “I love you, Nelle.”
She kisses your tears away,
“Say it again,” she growls against your lips, “let me hear how much you love me , while I make you cum so hard you forget every cruel thought you've ever had about this perfect body.”
“I-I love you!” you sob, your body arching off the laundry pile as Nelle's tentacles twist inside her.
“Nelle, please, I need...” Your voice breaks when a particularly thick tendril presses against your cervix, the stretch bordering on painful in the most delicious way. Tentacles pulse possessively in response, their slick surfaces vibrating against your oversensitive walls.
“That's it, sweetheart,” she growls, nipping at your s collarbone, “let me hear you while I ruin you, while I prove how perfect you are for me.”
Tentacles tighten possessively as she watches you unravel beneath her. You see stars, your body barely holding as the waves of pleasure wash through you, mumbling her name in between broken sounds, out of breath.
“N-never knew-” you gasp, your fingers scrabbling at Nelle's back, “-you could t-talk like this!”
“Oh, sweetheart,” she purrs, tracing your skin with worshipful suction cups. “You have no idea how many nights I lay awake composing love letters to these curves, how badly I wanted to pin you down and whisper every filthy, tender thought until you believed me”.
She picks up the pace again; she isn’t done, she needs more. Your hand reaches out desperately at Nelle’s head, tangling your hand into her tentacles as you sense Nelle nearing her own climax, pulling her close
“You're so beautiful,” you gasp between thrusts, “your tentacles, god, I've loved watching them move since we were kids-like liquid jewels catching sunlight, but your smile, Nelle-” your voice breaks as a particularly deep thrust punches the words from your lungs, “-your smile shines brighter than any sun.”
You can feel she is getting closer, her tentacles pulsing inside you, her breath coming in ragged gasps.
“Y-Y/n…” With a desperate whine, she buries her face against your throat, fangs glistening.
“Want…need to bite…” she pants, her entire body trembling with restraint, “need to claim you properly-mark you as mine…please, Y/n…let me show everyone who you belong to-”.
Your breath hitches at the primal plea, fingers tightening on Nelle’s “hair” as you instinctively bare your throat further.
Her fangs sink into your throat with possessive precision just as her tentacles surge deep inside, her hips stuttering as she cums with a broken cry, the taste of your skin flooding her senses as she drinks in every twitch, every gasp, branding them both in this perfect collision of love and lust.
“Mine,” she growls against sweat-slick skin, “always mine.”
You soon follow suit, Nelle’s bite triggering something primal as your thighs clamp around her waist, orgasms cresting violently with a scream that echoes off the laundry room walls. “Y-yours!” you pant, “only ever yours!”
Her tentacles slide free with agonizing slowness, their slick surfaces glistening under the fluorescent lights as she admires her handiwork, you spread bonelessly across the laundry pile, bite marks blooming on your throat, thighs trembling with spent pleasure.
“Look at you,” she murmurs, tracing a worshipful finger along your heaving stomach, “so perfect when you're properly loved.”
Your fingers flutter uncertainly toward the bite mark before Nelle catches them, pressing a tender kiss to each knuckle. The gentleness after such primal claiming makes you melt.
“R-really yours?” you whisper to yourself, still half-convinced you’ll wake up alone in your cold bed, the phantom ache of tentacles between your thighs just another cruel dream.
Too tired to move, Nelle gathers you into her arms with surprising tenderness, your sweat-slick skin sticking together as she presses your foreheads together.
“Listen,” she murmurs, guiding your trembling hand to her own pounding heartbeat, “that's yours, has been since the day you pulled me from the river. Every beat, Y/n. Every fucking beat”
Your fingers curl against Nelle's chest, the rapid thrum beneath her palm anchoring her better than any words could.
“So loud,” you whisper, blinking away fresh tears as Nelle's scent, salt and sex and something uniquely Nelle, fills your lungs.
“I never knew...your heart sounds like thunderstorms.”
She pulls you tighter against her, their tangled limbs fitting together like puzzle pieces finally aligned, your soft curves slotting perfectly against her leaner frame, her tentacles lazily tracing patterns along your trembling back.
“Now you know,” she murmurs.