chi

You blinked up at him. Your chest rose and fell rapidly, still winded from the slow, grinding rhythm that had led to this exquisite stillness. “Gojo…”

He smirked. Six Eyes shimmered faintly in the dimness. “No, baby. Listen.” His grip on your hips tightened. He rolled upward in one deep, deliberate motion. You gasped at the sudden pressure blooming inside. 

“I see everything,” he murmured, voice dropping lower. His gaze locked with yours and refused to waver. “Your skin, your heartbeat, the way you clench around me when I say shit like this.” His thumb traced the delicate line of your cheek before drifting downward to press lightly over your lower stomach. “I can see all the way inside. Every twitch, every little flutter around my cock. I see how deep I reach… and how badly you want it.”

Your breath caught sharply in your throat.

“You don’t understand it. You feel full…” He leaned closer until his lips brushed yours. “…but I see how tight you really are. How hard your body works to keep me inside. You’re trying so hard not to push me out, aren’t you?”

You squirmed. The slightest shift only reminded you how thoroughly he filled you. The stretch burned sweetly. The heat pulsed. The overwhelming fullness made your head spin in the most intoxicating way. Gojo’s smile widened. He read every flicker of sensation across your face as though it were written in light.

“You think I don’t notice how your pussy tries to keep all of it? Like it wants the cum to stay. Like it’s trying to breed.” His voice sank into something filthy and deliberate. “I see that too.”

One hand slid down between your legs, middle finger slipping lower until he touched the mess leaking out around him. He brought it up to his lips and sucked it off casually, then sighed with a grin.

“Messy,” he whispered. His fingers returned to trace lazy patterns over your swollen folds. “But not enough. You’re not leaking the way I want you to yet. Guess I’ll have to fill you again… and watch this time.”

The Six Eyes flared brighter, and your entire body tensed in instinctive response.

“Let me show you what it really means to be seen.”

You had no chance to reply. He leaned back against the cushions and pulled you with him. His hips pressed flush to yours. Your walls remained locked tight around every rigid inch of him. Broad hands spread across your thighs. Thumbs dug in with gentle insistence while those glowing blue eyes drank you in.

“I’m not pulling out,” he muttered. The words carried absolute certainty. “Not tonight. Not after what I just saw.”

A violent shiver raced through you.

With torturous patience he began to roll his hips again, deep, smooth strokes never once left your body. They simply rearranged the molten heat already inside you. Leftover release shifted, thick and heavy, pushed even deeper with every measured thrust.

His gaze remained fixed on your stomach. Long fingers dragged upward until his palm settled low, pressing just above your pelvis. “You’re so tight… I can feel how full you are just under my hand.” Reverence softened his tone to a hushed whisper. “Still holding it all in. Still clenching. God, you don’t know how beautiful that is.”

You whined. The sound broke free when he angled himself higher, nudging against that perfect place inside until your lungs seized.

He watched your expression shatter. “You don’t even realize what you’re doing to me. You’re making it impossible to stop. That greedy little cunt of yours just sucks it all in, like it knows what I want. You want me to fill your womb? To stuff you until it can’t take anymore?”

Words failed you. His filthy promises melted straight through your core and set every nerve ablaze.

Gojo licked his lips. Then he lifted you slightly and held you suspended. His cock gave a hard twitch inside your fluttering walls. He tilted his head. Those piercing blue eyes narrowed with feral intensity.

“Stay still.” Slowly, so slowly, he began to pull out.

He leaned forward. His focus zeroed between your spread thighs with terrifying precision.

“I can see it,” he breathed. “Still in there. So deep. Your body’s trying to keep it. My cum— my cum, is sitting right where I left it. Warm and thick and just waiting to breed you.”

A genuine moan tore from his throat. The sound vibrated through your bones.

“Fuck. I could come again just from watching it stay.”

Careful fingers parted your folds. He spread you open and studied the slow, rhythmic pulse of your entrance still clinging desperately to his release. He rubbed his thumb slowly over your swollen folds, tracing the slick, sensitive rim with deliberate care. A single thick drop of his cum attempted to escape, glistening and heavy as it began to slide free. But your muscles clenched instinctively, pulling tight around nothing, drawing the warm bead back inside with greedy, desperate insistence— like your body refused to surrender even a single drop of what he had given you.

Gojo’s breath caught at the sight. His thumb lingered, pressing just enough to feel the subtle flutter of resistance beneath your skin, the way your entrance trembled and gripped at the air in protest. “Fuck,” he whispered, voice low. “Look at that. Even now, you’re fighting to keep me inside,“You’re holding me so well,” he groaned. “Like you’re made to keep me inside.”

Then his mouth descended.

One long, obscene lick swept across the place where your bodies had fused. He gathered the mingled slick and cum on his tongue and moaned low in his throat, savoring the taste like something holy. Another slow drag followed. Then another. Between each filthy pass he whispered praise against your overworked flesh.

“You taste like heaven when you’re mine.”

Your thighs trembled violently. They locked tight around his shoulders. Gojo refused to relent. His tongue worked you into ruin, lapping, tasting, murmuring depravity with every glide across your stretched, dripping entrance.

And still his cum remained locked deep. Thick pulses of heat throbbed inside your spasming walls with every broken sound you made.

“You think I’m done with you?” His voice emerged wrecked and dripping with hunger. “I’m still hard. Still need you. Still leaking into you.”

He licked his lips. The Six Eyes burned brighter, wild with power and obsession.

“You’re not pushing me out,” he growled. The blunt head of his cock nudged your soaked entrance once more. He began to move with devastating slowness. Deep strokes dragged along every soaked, sensitive inch of your walls. “Not yet. Not until I say so.”

You whimpered and tried to twist away from the unbearable stretch. His hands clamped down harder, pinning your hips in place. He rolled upward with sharper intent.

“Ah— there it is. Right there.” His eyes closed for a moment, lashes fluttered as your walls clamped down in response. “You’re squeezing so tight, like you’re about to cum again, aren’t you?”

You managed only a frantic nod. Your lungs refused to draw full breath. Every muscle wound impossibly tight.

“Good,” he whispered, leaning in to brush soft kisses to your jaw, then the sensitive shell of your ear. “So you’ll milk another load out of me. Let’s see how much your greedy little pussy can really take.”

And he slammed into you.

Not rough in violence, but in obsession. In need. His strokes turned sharp, brutal, wet— the sound of skin against skin and slick squelch of overstimulated friction filled the room. You could feel it building again, the rush, the bloom of something raw and unbearable curling through your core.

Gojo’s mouth found your neck now hot, ragged breaths fanned across your skin.

“You’re gonna cum again, yeah?” he rasped softly. “Then I’ll fill you again and push it in deep and watch it all try to stay. You’ll be dripping for me until morning, sweetheart.”

Your body convulsed around him, another shattering orgasm tore through you. His name spilled from your lips in a broken, desperate cry.

Gojo followed with a long, choked groan. He ground impossibly deeper. His cock throbbed violently inside you. Thick pulses of heat flooded your core, warm and endless. Your walls milked him greedily, drawing out every last drop.

And when it threatened to spill?

He pushed in even deeper and whispered against your ear, “Not yet. Keep it. You’re not done.”

Time stretched thin and syrupy.

His breathless groans still echoed in your ears. Your exhausted cries lingered in the humid air. The relentless stretch and exquisite fill left you dizzy. Finally he settled. He never withdrew. He simply held you close.

Your cheek rested against the solid warmth of his shoulder. Your legs trembled in his lap. Sweat and slick heat coated you both. His hand traced slow, soothing patterns along your spine while quiet murmurs spilled from his lips.

“Hey…” He pressed a tender kiss to your forehead. “You okay?”

You nodded weakly, and he smiled against your hair.

“You took me so good,” he said. Tenderness softened his voice now. “Held me through all of it. Kept every drop. Think I’ve ever cum that hard?” A soft chuckle rumbled through his chest and eased the lingering tension inside you.

He still twitched faintly inside your overworked heat, you could feel him and the fullness grew heavier as your body relaxed against his. He shifted slightly, sliding a hand down to rub gentle circles over your lower belly.

“So full…” he murmured. “I can still feel it in you. Still warm. Your body hasn’t let go.”

He tilted your chin upward and kissed you slowly. Soft lips moved with lazy affection. Tongues slid together in unhurried exploration. The sweetness felt almost shocking after so much raw intensity.

“You don’t have to push it out,” he whispered against your mouth. “Let it stay for a while. Let it soak. You deserve to rest, all filled up like this.”

You whimpered into the kiss. He smiled wider.

“Want me to carry you to bed like this? Still inside, still stuffed? Keep you close until morning?”

You nodded again.

He eased you both onto your sides. Strong arms wrapped around you. He never once left your body. Warmth and intimacy enveloped you completely.

In the quiet darkness Gojo whispered one final confession.

“You know, I saw it. Right there inside you. My cum sitting in your tight little cunt like it was meant to stay. I’ve never wanted anything more in my life.”

The light filtered through the curtains in soft, golden ribbons, painting lazy shapes across the rumpled sheets. You woke first. A deep, throbbing ache had settled into your hips. Your thighs burned with sweet, lingering exhaustion. Every inch of your skin still flushed fever-hot from the endless night of surrender. Gojo had scarcely moved. His body remained molded to yours from behind. And he was still inside you. Thick and rigid. Unyieldingly hard. Every last drop of his release sealed deep within the fluttering, overstretched grip of your walls.

He exhaled a slow, sleepy breath against the nape of your neck. His lips nuzzled the sensitive skin there, warm and possessive. “Mmm… morning.”

The smallest shift of your hips sent sensation roaring back to life. His cock gave a lazy twitch inside you. The slow, heavy drag reignited every swollen nerve ending. Thick heat sloshed deep in your core, trapped so completely it twisted your stomach into fresh knots of greedy, aching want.

Gojo pressed a lingering kiss to the curve of your shoulder. His voice rolled out low and teasing, velvet wrapped around sin. “Still haven’t pushed me out?”

“No,” you breathed. The word trembled on your tongue. “It won’t come out.”

A pleased hum vibrated through his chest. He shifted behind you with deliberate care. One large hand coaxed your thigh higher, opening you wider to the morning air. His palm glided across the slick skin of your inner thigh before settling just below the soft swell of your lower belly. “I can feel it,” he murmured. Long fingers splayed possessively, pressing lightly. “So full. So warm. You really held onto it, didn’t you?”

His hips rolled forward in one languid, devastating motion. Not to chase pleasure. Simply to savor. The wet squish of his own thick release shifted around the length of him, coating your sensitive walls anew, soaking you even deeper until the fullness bordered on delirious.

Then, quieter now, almost reverent, he whispered against your ear, “Wanna see?”

You nodded. Breath already coming shallow and quick.

He eased back. Only an inch at first. Then two. Immediately a hot, slippery flood bloomed at your entrance. White and creamy, impossibly thick, it began to spill in slow, obscene trails down your slit.

Gojo’s gaze turned molten. He leaned down. Broad hands parted your thighs with something close to worship. “Look at you,” he breathed. Warm lips grazed the trembling skin of your inner thigh. “So creamy, so messy… it’s dripping even though you’re still tight around me.”

Then he kissed your thigh. Then higher still. His tongue flicked out. One long, deliberate stripe gathered the warm spill leaking from your stretched folds. You jolted violently. “Satoru—!”

“Mm,” he moaned against your core. The sound vibrated straight through your overstimulated nerves. “Still tastes like me.”

His tongue returned with slow, filthy devotion. He lapped at the creamy mess, savoring every trace with unhurried hunger. Long fingers gently spread your swollen folds wider so he could inspect every obscene detail: the flushed, puffy rim still trembling, the helpless flutter of your entrance as though it mourned the loss of fullness, the thick white rivulets painting your thighs in glistening streaks.

He teased a single finger in beside the leaking heat. Slid it deep with obscene ease. Your walls immediately clenched around the intrusion, greedy and desperate. He groaned at the tight, sucking grip.

“Still stretched open for me,” he whispered. Voice rough with awe. “Still leaking. And I’m still hard.”

A wicked, filthy grin curved his lips. “You sure you don’t want it again?”

Before you could scrape together an answer he was already guiding himself back. The blunt, swollen head nudged your soaked entrance. He rubbed slow, teasing circles through the warm mess he had made, smearing it everywhere until you glistened. Then he pushed.

“Let’s see if you can keep all of it this time.”

He sank into you slowly, deeply, without mercy. Thick inch after thick inch stretched you open again, claiming every fluttering inch with inevitable, relentless pressure. Your tender walls parted around him with a wet, sucking sound that echoed in the quiet room. The stretch burned sweetly through every overworked nerve. Your body fluttered helplessly, trying to draw him deeper even as your thighs shook from the overwhelming intensity.

“God, you’re tight,” he groaned. The words tore from his throat like prayer. “Like your pussy was made to hold my cum.”

You whimpered when he bottomed out again. Every rigid inch seated perfectly deep. Your walls spasmed around the fresh invasion. His fingers twisted into your hair. Hot mouth found the side of your neck, teeth grazing just enough to make you shiver.

“Don’t cum yet,” he whispered. Breath fanning damp across your skin. “Not until I feel you spill again.”

Then he began to move, slow and unhurried, every motion sinking deep with languid, consuming intent. Each languorous drag of his cock stroked along every swollen, hypersensitive ridge of your inner walls, coaxing shivers from flesh already raw with want. Each measured roll of his hips drove the flushed, swollen head flush against your cervix, pressing there in slow, possessive kisses that claimed the deepest place he had already flooded and marked as his own.

“Feel that?” His voice rasped hot against your ear. “Feel me pressing up there, where it’s supposed to go?”

You choked on a moan as he nudged higher, possessive and unhurried, grinding until the pressure bloomed white-hot behind your eyes.

“I want it all in there this time,” he rasped, voice scraped raw with need. “Just your sweet pussy swallowing it all down.”

The words landed like a brand against your skin. Gojo’s hips stilled for one long, torturous heartbeat— letting you feel the full, throbbing weight of him seated to the root, the flushed head pressed flush to your cervix like a promise carved in heat. Then he moved again, slower than before, every roll of his pelvis so controlled it felt obscene.

He dragged out almost to the tip, letting your walls flutter desperately around the sudden emptiness, only to sink back in with devastating patience. Thick ridges of his cock stroked every swollen inch of you on the way down, spreading you open wider, forcing your body to yield again and again. The head kissed your deepest place with each measured thrust— soft, insistent nudges that made your womb flutter, made your breath hitch into broken little whimpers.

You could feel it building already: the molten pressure low in your belly, the way your cunt clenched greedily around him, trying to pull him impossibly deeper. Slick and his earlier release coated every slide, turning each motion into a wet, filthy glide that echoed softly between your bodies.

Gojo’s hand slipped beneath your stomach again, palm flattening over the subtle bulge his cock created inside you. He pressed down gently— enough to make you gasp, enough to feel the hard ridge of him shift beneath your skin.

“Right here,” he murmured, voice thick and sugared. “I’m gonna flood you so deep you’ll feel me for days. Gonna pump every drop straight into your womb until it’s soaked, until your pretty little cunt can’t hold anything else.”

His rhythm never faltered, each thrust ended with a subtle grind, hips circling so the head rubbed relentlessly against that sensitive ring of muscle, coaxing it to open just a fraction more for him. Your walls spasmed in response, milking him without mercy, and he groaned low against your neck, teeth grazing skin.

“Feel how tight you are around me?” he whispered. “How your body’s begging to keep me? That’s it, baby. Swallow it. Take every fucking pulse. Let me fill you until you’re dripping nothing but me.”

He leaned closer, chest pressed to your back, one arm banding around your waist to hold you flush against him while the other hand stayed low, fingers splaying over your mound. He rocked into you with short, rolling thrusts now— never pulling out far, just grinding deep, stirring his cock against your cervix until pleasure blurred into something almost painful.

You sobbed his name. Legs shaking. Core clenching so hard it hurt in the best way.

“That’s my girl,” he breathed, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Cum for me again. Milk it all out. Let your sweet pussy drink every last drop while I stay buried right here… filling you… claiming you… until there’s nowhere left for it to go but inside.”

His rhythm deepened further. Slower now, and more purposeful. Every roll of his hips ground against that perfect, swollen spot inside you until your moans turned ragged and pleading. His hands slipped beneath your belly. Large palms massaged in firm, slow circles, feeling the subtle bulge of his cock moving beneath your skin with every deep thrust.

“Cum on me,” he whispered. Voice ragged with raw need. “Cum while I fill you again.”

Pleasure coiled unbearably tight in your core. Your body shook with the effort of holding back.

“C’mon, baby. Let go. Show me how you take it.”

His next thrust was deeper, harder, the head kissing your womb with bruising intent— and you broke.

The orgasm ripped through you in violent, shuddering waves. Your walls clamped down hard around his cock. You soaked him completely, trembling, sobbing his name into the sheets. Gojo groaned low and broken behind you. He slammed deep one final time and held himself there, buried to the root. You felt every thick, pulsing surge as he came again. Heat flooded your core. Endless. Overwhelming. Your greedy cunt milked him through every shuddering release until the weight of him inside you felt almost too much to bear.

He stayed buried. Panting hard against your shoulder.

“I’ll check again in a minute,” he murmured. Breath still ragged and hot on your skin. Lazy fingers brushed between your slick, trembling thighs. “But for now… let it soak in, yeah?”

His cock continued to twitch faintly inside your stuffed, fluttering heat. Your thighs still quaked with aftershocks. Your pussy throbbed with exquisite overstimulation, stretched impossibly wide, drenched through, impossibly full of him.

And Gojo did not pull out.

Not even a fraction.

He simply remained there. Heavy and warm and utterly claiming all of your tight heat. His weight settled over your back as his breathing gradually slowed to match yours.

But the morning had only just begun to unfold. Gojo’s hunger had not dimmed in the slightest.

Not when you were still dripping.

Not when your cunt had clenched around his cock like you’d been made to keep it in.

“Shhh,” he whispered, kissing the inside of your thigh as he slowly pulled back, inch by torturous inch, until your stretched entrance fluttered open around nothing. “Just wanna see it again.”

A sticky mess immediately followed. Slick, warm, heavy with his cum, it spilled down your slit in a slow, syrupy trail.

He stared. Completely mesmerized.

Then he brought two fingers up. They slid in with obscene ease, pushing his release back inside as you moaned brokenly.

“You’re gonna waste it,” he scolded gently, pushing deeper. “All this work… and your pussy’s just letting it go?”

Your walls clenched hard around his fingers. He groaned at the greedy grip, slowly fucking them into you, not for pleasure but to stuff every drop back where it belonged. Knuckles curled. He pressed higher until you gasped.

“Still tight,” he murmured. “Even after all night. Still so greedy…”

He pulled his fingers out with agonizing slowness, letting them glide free inch by slick inch until your entrance fluttered open around nothing. The moment they left you, his cum answered— thick, white, and still fever-warm, it welled up from deep inside and began to slip out in a slow, viscous ribbon. The creamy strand stretched between your swollen folds before breaking, trailing down your slit in a heavy, glistening path that painted your inner thighs and soaked into the sheets beneath you.

Gojo watched it all with rapt, predatory focus. His breath hitched audibly at the sight of his own release leaking from your pretty, overworked cunt— proof of how thoroughly he had filled you, how greedily your body had tried to keep every drop locked away until now. The thick white gathered at your entrance, pooling there for one obscene heartbeat before gravity coaxed another lazy bead to slide free, warm and sticky, clinging to your sensitive rim like it didn’t want to leave either.

“Fuck,” he breathed, voice low and wrecked. “Look at that… still so much of me trying to stay inside you.”

Then he pushed his fingers back in.

Deeper. Slower.

Two long digits sank into your soaked heat with filthy ease, parting your tender walls and gathering the escaping cum on their way down. He curled them deliberately, knuckles dragging along that swollen, hypersensitive ridge inside you until he reached the furthest place he had flooded. The wet squelch was loud in the quiet room— obscene and intimate— as he pressed those thick ropes of his release back where they belonged, stuffing them deeper, smearing them along every fluttering inch.

Your cunt clenched hard around the intrusion, greedy and desperate, trying to pull his fingers— and the cum they carried— even further in. Gojo groaned at the tight, sucking grip, hips twitching involuntarily like his cock remembered exactly how good that same greedy clutch felt wrapped around it.

He twisted his wrist just enough to spread you open from the inside, letting you feel the warm, slippery weight of his seed being pushed and stirred deeper still. Another slow pump followed, his fingers sliding out halfway only to plunge back in, slow and possessive, forcing more of the thick cream to coat your walls until you were glistening anew from the inside out.

“Stay,” he murmured against your thigh, lips brushing sweat-slick skin. “Keep it all right here for me. Let your sweet little pussy soak in every drop… let it sit heavy and warm inside you until you’re dripping nothing but me again.”

He pressed his palm flat over your lower belly once more, feeling the subtle give beneath his hand where his cum pooled deep. Then he curled his fingers again pushing one final thick rope back toward your womb with reverent pressure, like he was sealing it there, marking you from the inside until there was no space left that didn’t belong to him.

“Hold it,” he whispered. His voice turned hot and low against your neck as he climbed over you. “C’mon, baby. Keep it in for me.”

His fingers twisted. Spread you just enough to reveal more of the creamy mess inside, the obscene stretch of your cunt around his hand. “God,” he hissed. Lips brushed your ear. “I could stay here all day, watching you twitch around my cum like that.”

You whimpered.

He kissed your cheek. Still so smug.

“Wanna be filled again? Or should I keep using these fingers ’til you leak for me slow?”

You could barely think.

Your body was trembling, thighs slick and twitching, cunt stretched and so full your belly still felt heavy. Gojo’s fingers remained buried deep and slow, not moving to pleasure, just to feel, to press, to keep his release exactly where it belonged.

He leaned back on his heels behind you. Eyes fixed between your legs like he studied something sacred. Two fingers still pushed deep, curling just slightly every few seconds to remind you who owned you.

“You’ve been holding it so well,” he murmured. “All night. Didn’t even drip on the sheets.”

You whined. Hips shifted as his fingers flexed. It squelched. Hot, thick, and wet.

“Still so fucking full,” he whispered.

His other hand came to your ass. Spread you wider. Tilted your hips until he could see everything. The creamy ring around his knuckles. The tremble of your entrance. The fluttering clench that begged to keep his cum locked deep.

“But now…” His voice lowered with a filthy edge. “I wanna see it.”

Your head snapped back. Breath hitched as his fingers began to move. Not fast. Not rough. Just a gentle twist and pull. Just enough to make you feel the unbearable weight of it.

“Push it out for me,” he whispered.

You gasped. “I can’t—”

“Yes, you can,” he said. Voice velvet. “C’mon. You took all of it. Kept it for me. Let me see it now. Show me how you drip for me.”

He pulled his fingers out with an obscene sound. Your entrance tried to follow, slick and stretched. The second he withdrew, a slow trail of white began to leak out, thick and warm between your folds.

“Mm, that’s it,” Gojo cooed. His hand stroked down your lower back. “Just like that. Don’t rush. Let it spill.”

He seized your thighs in strong hands, prying them wider apart with possessive force. The sudden stretch alone coaxed a fresh gush of his thick cum oozing slowly from your swollen puckered hole in warm, heavy waves.

Gojo watched, transfixed on the creamy release dripping in languid, glistening strands, stretching obscenely from your fluttering pussy before breaking to soak the sheets below in sticky pools.

Then his fingers returned. He scooped the warm spill with deliberate care, gathering the viscous white on his fingertips before smearing it back over your sensitive rim in slow, filthy circles, his fingertips, tracing lazy patterns so reluctant to let even a single drop escape his touch.

“That’s my girl,” he whispered. “Letting me see how deep I filled you… how messy you are.”

He pushed his fingers back in. Not all the way. Just enough to feel the heat, then pulled back again, drawing out another thick trail.

“You wanna keep going, don’t you?” he teased. Smearing more around your folds. “Even after leaking like this, you’re still clenching. Still empty without me.”

You whimpered. Tried to arch back against his hand. His fingers returned. Pressed deeper. Curled. Stroked that sweet spot with slow, devastating precision.

He leaned close. Lips brushed your ear as your body jolted again.

“Push out the rest,” he murmured. Voice ragged. “Then I’ll fill you again. We’ll see how much your pretty pussy can really hold.”

You hadn’t even finished leaking.

His cum still dripped from your swollen pussy in slow, syrupy trails. Slicking your thighs. Staining the sheets. Still warm as it oozed from deep inside. You tried to breathe. Tried to stay still. But Gojo didn’t let up.

Not for a second.

He pushed your hips higher. Kept you spread wide open. One hand pressed at the small of your back while the other stroked slowly around your twitching entrance.

“You really tried,” he murmured. Voice dark and low as he watched more of his mess spill out. “Kept it in all night. But look at you now…”

His fingers were coated. Milky and wet, before he brought them back to your entrance again. Pushed two in slow, like he missed the way you stretched around him.

And you squeezed them.

Hard.

“Still tight,” he groaned. Fingers curled deep. “Still so fucking greedy…”

You gasped when he pressed down on your lower belly with his palm, right above where his fingers reached. The firm, deliberate pressure forced a sharp jolt through your entire body. Your walls spasmed hard around his knuckles. A fresh, hot stream of his cum rushed out of your cunt in a thick, slippery gush, coating his fingers and dripping down the cleft of your ass to pool warm and sticky against the sheets.

Gojo groaned like the sound had punched straight through him.

“Fuck… there it is,” he rasped. His voice came out wrecked, thick with hunger. “Look at all that. Still so much of me inside you.”

He didn’t give you time to catch your breath.

He withdrew his fingers slowly, obscenely, letting you feel every inch of drag as your entrance clung to them, reluctant to let go. The moment they slipped free, another lazy trickle followed—white and viscous, clinging to your folds in long, creamy strings. Gojo’s eyes darkened to something feral. He spread your thighs wider with both hands, hooking under your knees and pushing them back until your hips tilted up, exposing every glistening inch of you to his ravenous gaze.

“So pretty,” he murmured, almost to himself. “Your pretty cunt’s leaking my cum like it can’t help itself.”

He lowered his head without another word.

His tongue met your entrance in one long, greedy swipe at your cummy hole, collecting the thick spill that had just escaped. He moaned deep in his throat at the first taste, the sound vibrating against your oversensitive flesh. Then he dove in properly.

Lips sealed over your swollen folds. He sucked gently at first, drawing the creamy mixture of his release and your slick into his mouth like he was drinking something sacred. His tongue pushed inside you next, slow and insistent. It plunged deep enough to curl against your fluttering walls, scooping out thick ropes of his own cum with deliberate, filthy strokes. He dragged it along every sensitive ridge, gathering more of the creamy heat he had flooded you with, savoring the heavy taste of his release mingled with your slick arousal.

Every long, greedy lap echoed wetly through the room. Nasty, squelching sounds filled the humid air as he devoured you without restraint. He was loud about it. Shameless even, filthy moans vibrated straight against your core with every swallow. He sucked and licked like a man possessed, like the flavor of his seed leaking from your swollen cunt was the only thing keeping him alive.

Gojo groaned deep in his throat. The sound rumbled through your overstimulated flesh and made your hips jerk involuntarily. He pressed his face harder between your thighs, nose brushing your clit while his tongue fucked in and out in slow, possessive thrusts. He chased every last trace deeper inside, lips smacking wetly as he pulled back just enough to let another thick bead well up at your entrance— only to dive forward again and suck it straight from your pulsing rim.

“Fuck,” he panted against you, voice wrecked and dripping with lust. “So much of me still in here.”

He spread you wider with both thumbs, opening your dripping folds until nothing was hidden. Your entrance fluttered helplessly under his gaze, trying to clench around the emptiness he had just left behind. Another slow trickle of white began to spill. Gojo watched it with dark, obsessive hunger before leaning in to lap it up in one long, dragging stripe from your perineum to your clit. His tongue flattened broad and heavy, collecting every viscous drop, then curled to push it back inside only so he could taste it again on the next filthy pass.

He was relentless. Greedy beyond reason. Lips sealed over your clit once more, sucking hard enough to make your vision blur while his tongue continued its obscene work below— thrusting, swirling, scooping, swallowing. Wet slurps and low, guttural moans spilled from his mouth as he fed on you. On himself. On the messy, intimate proof of how thoroughly he had claimed your body.

Your thighs trembled violently around his head. Slick coated his chin, his cheeks, glistened on his swollen lips. And still he pressed deeper. Tongue spearing inside you again. Curling and lapping. Drinking down every thick pulse of his cum that your greedy cunt tried to give him, like he would never be satisfied until he had licked you completely clean, only to fill you all over again later.

You whimpered, hips twitching. The overstimulation bordered on unbearable. Every drag of his tongue sent sparks racing up your spine, but he only tightened his grip on your thighs, keeping you spread and pinned exactly where he wanted.

He pulled back just enough to watch another thick bead well up at your entrance. His thumb brushed over your folds again, spreading you open wider so he could see it glisten. Then he leaned in and sucked it straight from the source— lips pursing around your fluttering rim, tongue flicking rapidly to catch every drop before it could escape.

“Mine,” he growled against you. The word was muffled, vibrating straight into your core. “All of it. Every fucking drop.”

He shifted higher. His mouth closed over your clit, tightly. The hot, wet suction made your back arch off the bed. He sucked hard, tongue lapping in tight, relentless circles while two fingers slid back inside you, not to fuck, but to press and curl, coaxing out more of his cum for him to devour.

You were shaking now. Thighs trembling violently in his hold. Breaths coming in broken sobs. He didn’t stop. He couldn’t. Gojo was ravenous— greedy in a way that felt almost violent. He ate you like a man starved, lapping and sucking and swallowing every trace of himself he could reach. His chin glistened. His lips were swollen and slick. And still he pressed deeper, tongue thrusting inside again to chase what lingered furthest in, groaning every time your walls fluttered and tried to give him more.

When another gush coated his tongue he pulled back just long enough to look up at you, eyes wild and pupils blown, cheeks flushed, mouth shining with the evidence of his obsession.

“You taste so fucking good full of me,” he panted. Voice hoarse. “I could do this all day. Just keep you spread open and eat my cum out of this greedy little pussy until there’s nothing left to lick up.”

Then he dove back in.

Lips sealed over your clit again. Sucked hard, tongue flicking out mercilessly, his fingers curling even deeper, pressing against that spot that made your vision white out.

He was relentless.

Greedy.

Gojo was completely, shamelessly addicted to the taste of his own release spilling from your trembling cunt, to the thick, salty warmth of it coating his tongue, mingling with the sweet-slick flood of your arousal, to the way your body kept trying to give him more. Every flutter of your walls, every helpless clench, pushed another slow bead of his cum toward his waiting mouth, and he drank it down like he was starving, greedy moans vibrating against your swollen folds as he lapped deeper, sucked harder, chased every last drop with filthy devotion.

His chin glistened. His lips were swollen and slick. His cheeks flushed from the heat between your thighs. And still he pressed on, his tongue spearing inside one final time, curling to scoop out the deepest traces, swallowing with a low, guttural groan that made your hips jerk against his face.

Only then did he finally pull away.

He rose slowly, crawling up your body with predatory grace, broad shoulders caging you in as he settled over you. His mouth was a mess— shiny with your combined slick, lips parted and breathing ragged. Before you could catch your breath he leaned down and kissed you, messy and unapologetically.

His tongue pushed straight past your lips, carrying the raw, heady taste of his cum and your pussy straight into your mouth. Thick and warm, the flavor bloomed across your tongue, the salty, musky, unmistakably him that mixed with the sweet tang of your own arousal that still clung to every surface of his mouth. He groaned into the kiss, low and wrecked, like the simple act of sharing it with you was enough to unravel him all over again.

One hand cupped the back of your neck, tilting your head so he could lick deeper, stroking along the roof of your mouth, painting every inch with the filthy evidence of what he’d just devoured from between your legs. His other hand slid down to grip your hip, holding you flush against him while he kissed you slower now with languid, possessive drags of tongue against tongue, letting you taste how thoroughly he’d claimed you, how thoroughly he’d feasted on the mess he’d made inside you.

He broke the kiss only long enough to murmur against your lips, voice hoarse and dripping with satisfaction.

“Feel that?” He licked into your mouth again, slow. “That’s us. Me inside you… still leaking out… still on my tongue. You taste like mine, baby. Every fucking part of you.”

Then he sealed his mouth over yours once more, kissing you deeper, messier, until the taste of his cum and your cunt was all either of you could breathe.

you shuffled in wearing the same oversized university hoodie you always stole from the laundry pile—it was technically his, but you’d claimed it three months ago and he’d never asked for it back, not when you just looked too comfortable in it —the hem brushed the tops of your bare thighs.

your hair was a mess, the wrinkles of your pillow pressed into your cheek, and you were yawning so wide he could see the pink of your tongue. you didn’t notice him tracking the way the hoodie rode up when you reached for the top-shelf mugs, exposing the soft underside of your ass and the faint lace edge of yesterday’s panties.

months ago the sight would’ve made him freeze up and his brain blue-screen, an incessant flatlining beeeeeeep ringing in his ears. but now he’s seen enough, albeit accidentally, to only notice a minimal shift in his breathing.

“morning, cho,” you mumbled, voice still gravelly from sleep. you stopped behind his stool, draping yourself against his back lazily, chin hooked on his shoulder to peer at his screen. “you’re up early again. didn’t you finish that paper last night?”

“couldn’t sleep,” he lied, voice low and even. the truth was he’d spent the last four hours on a private reddit tab titled r/howtoeatpussy, cross-referencing user studies with actual anatomical diagrams from his med-school textbooks. it was… personal research, just out of curiosity.

gojo burst in thirty seconds later like a tornado in human form, white hair sticking up in every direction. he was wearing only black boxers and an open button-up shirt he hadn’t bothered to button, making a triumphant sound when he found the pants he was looking for hung by the window.

“morning!” he slung an arm around your shoulders after successfully dressing himself, pulling you into his chest with zero regard for personal space. you laughed and shoved at him half-heartedly, your cheek pressing against the warm, bare skin of his torso. when you first moved in, you were sure satoru hated your guts. while choso was just a bit cold, he seemed downright judgemental of everything you said or did. now he could barely stay away from you. his hand lingered a second too long at the small of your back, thumb brushing the strip of skin where your hoodie had ridden up again. “rough night? you weren’t back until later than usual.”

you groaned, peeling yourself away to pour coffee into three mismatched mugs. “don’t even. i tried that dating app again. guy was hot, talked a big game about ‘knowing what women want,’ then spent forty-five minutes on missionary and asked if i came. i faked it so hard i pulled a muscle in my thigh.”

choso’s fingers tightened on his mug. satoru’s grin sharpened, but neither of them said anything except the usual supportive noises—“what a loser,” “you deserve better,” “we’ll egg his car if you want.” they were good at that part. experts, even.

STEP 1 ❤︎ MAKE OBSERVATIONS AND IDENTIFY THE EXISTING PROBLEM !

what they were also experts at, was noticing anything and everything about anything and everything. you just happened to be a common subject lately. you and your failed dates.

so when they started noticing that theme more often, it was only natural for them to want to help you. and true to the scientific method, they wanted to do it all right.

well, admittedly the observations started from the moment you moved in. but by now they were too hard to ignore.

observation #1: you were chronically under-fucked. not in quantity (though the frequency of your dates had dropped lately) but in quality. the frustrated little sighs you made when you thought the apartment was empty. the way you’d limp slightly after a bad night, rubbing at your lower back like the guy hadn’t even bothered with foreplay.

the soft, bitten-off sounds that sometimes drifted through the thin wall separating your bedroom from choso’s at 1 a.m. when you thought you were being quiet. he’d mapped the exact pitch of your vibrator on his phone’s audio analyzer app. for science, obviously.

observation #2: your body responded to the smallest things. when satoru ruffled your hair and called you “good girl” as a joke, your breath would hitch for half a second. when choso absentmindedly rubbed the knot between your shoulder blades after you’d been hunched over your laptop for six hours, your eyes would flutter and you’d lean into his hand like a cat. it was safe to assume you harbored some attraction for them at the very least.

you never noticed how your thighs pressed together when they both crowded you on the couch for movie night, their legs bracketing yours, heat bleeding through thin fabric.

observation #3: you trusted them completely. blindly. you’d walk around in tiny sleep shorts and a braless tank top, nipples faintly visible through the fabric when the ac kicked on, shrugging “it’s just us, who cares.” you’d cry on their shoulders after bad days, let them tuck you into bed when you fell asleep during horror movies, let satoru carry you to your room when you were too tipsy to walk straight.

you had no idea the way your head tipped back against his chest exposed the long line of your throat, or how your fingers curled into choso’s shirt like you were anchoring yourself to him.

despite it being less formal than he was accustomed to, satoru kept a private folder on his phone labeled “lab data” to avoid suspicion. choso maintained a color-coded spreadsheet titled “behavioral analysis.”

neither of them had spoken the words out loud yet, but the shared obsession had been growing for weeks, and it only grew when they confided in each other. about their concerns. duh.

they weren’t creepy about it—not in the way outsiders might assume.

it was clinical. protective, even. you attend early lectures against your will, came home drained, and still find the time to fuss over them instead of worrying about yourself. noticing the little things was the least they could do for you.

you remembered choso’s younger brother’s birthday and baked him cookies.

you let gojo rant about new updates on his favorite video game for forty-five minutes without interrupting.

you were good, and you deserved someone who was good to you too.

STEP 2 ❤︎ RESEARCH EXISTING SOLUTIONS !

the apartment stayed dim, only the soft blue light from choso’s laptop and satoru’s phone screen cutting through the late-night quiet. you’d gone to bed hours ago after another disappointing date three weeks after they decided to start this project, leaving the two of them alone on the couch with the shared google sheet they created pulled up like it was classified research. choso sat with perfect posture, glasses low on his, while satoru slouched against him, leg thrown casually over choso’s thigh as they scrolled through reddit megathreads and raw x clips—real bedrooms, shaky cameras, actual moans instead of the overproduced pornhub garbage they’d ditched immediately.

“let’s try to stay focused and objective,” choso murmured, voice low and focused, the same tone he used during late-night study sessions. “no projecting. we observe, we note, we refine.”

satoru smirked, thumb swiping through another x thread titled something like ‘she came so hard her legs gave out’. the clip showed a guy with his face buried between a girl’s thighs, two fingers working steadily while his tongue did slow, deliberate circles. “fuck, look at her hips bucking. that’s exactly the kind of reaction we’re after. the closeup suggests using a flat tongue at first, note that down.”

they kept adding rows, voices hushed but growing thicker with every new technique they discussed. the air between them felt charged, heavy with the weight of what they were planning for you— completely unaware in your room down the hall, probably sleeping in oke of their shirts again.

choso’s fingers moved across the keyboard with clinical precision while satoru read reddit threads or narrated clips aloud, his breath warm against choso’s shoulder. “i’ve got three tabs open in r/howtoeatpussy, two in r/sex, and a private x list i curated last week. we should cross-reference with her observed responses. praise kink confirmed at 87% correlation.”

by 1:30 a.m. the spreadsheet had become a detailed, filthy roadmap.

technique | source | predicted effectiveness ( 1-10 ) | notes | verdict

row #82: slow clit circles with flat tongue source . r/howtoeatpussy pinned guide PE . 9 notes . combine with humming for vibration; she always leans into shoulder rubs—same sensitivity expected verdict . keep

row #17: two fingers hooked + steady curl source . x clip @/amateurcouplevids (2:45) PE . 9 notes . focus on the anterior wall, no fast thrusting; her post-date complaints include mindless jackhammering verdict . keep

row #104: prone bone source . reddit positions megathread on r/sex PE . 10 notes . full body weight, hips tilted, free hand working her clit nonstop; she melts when we pin her during hugs verdict . keep

row #34: position 69 source . r/sex testimonies PE . 2 notes . distracting; she needs full focus on her pleasure verdict . delete

row #73: edging + constant praise source . r/sex “making her beg” megathread PE . 10 notes . bring her close three times, call her good girl each round; her breath always catches when we say it casually verdict . keep

row #62: cowgirl source . reddit “best positions for deep penetration” PE . 6 notes . she likes feeling in control but gets shy fast; might need us to guide her rhythm without making her self-conscious verdict . revise

row #215: gentle hair tug + neck sucking sources . x clip from @/msbhve PE . 8 notes . light pull at the roots while mouth on the spot under her ear; should be effective considering touching her hair is already a self soothing technique verdict . keep

row #156: slapping source . multiple PE . 3 notes . self explanatory, but important to be gentle at first; no clear signals she wants impact thus far—risk of killing the mood if we guess wrong verdict . revise

satoru let out a low whistle as choso hit save, the seemingly never ending spreadsheet glowing softly between them. “i think we have enough information to turn this into an actual paper.”

choso didn’t smile, but his cheeks were flushed behind the glasses, pupils dark. he closed the laptop slowly but didn’t move it from his lap, voice dropping even quieter. “i’d say to keep the research to ourselves for now, at least until after we reset it.”

satoru’s grin turned sharper, but his eyes stayed soft, hungry in that protective way only they seemed to share when it came to you. he leaned back, stretching his arms overhead so his shirt rode up, exposing the cut of his hips. “step three is hypothesis testing, right? controlled environment. our place. her moaning our names instead of faking it for some loser.”

choso glanced down the dark hallway toward your closed door, imagining you curled up in your bed, surrounded by the plushies you kept out of nostalgia or just because you liked them, thighs pressed together in your sleep from another night of frustration. you had no idea your two genius roommates had just spent hours completely devoted to making sure you never settled for half-assed sex again.

“yeah,” choso finally whispered, fingers twitching like he was already imagining the feel of your skin under them. “we just have to wait for the right moment.”

STEP 3 ❤︎ DATA COLLECTION !

a couple of weeks slip by in that same comfortable rhythm as if there was nothing going on, the apartment humming with the usual late-spring warmth and the faint smell of takeout containers you keep forgetting to toss. you still have no idea about the spreadsheet glowing quietly in choso’s phone or the way both of them have been watching you like researchers who finally got approval for the real experiment.

movie night feels normal enough when satoru suggests it—some new sci-fi thriller he’s been hyping, the kind with jump scares and long stretches of tension that always end with you tucked between them on the couch, laughing and hiding your face in whoever’s shoulder is closest.

the three of you are crammed on the big sectional again, the one that’s seen too many marvel reruns and spilled popcorn. you’re in the middle, as always, wearing one of satoru’s old shirts that still smells faintly like his detergent and the faint trace of his skin. nothing underneath but a pair of soft cotton panties because it’s warm and it’s just them and you’ve clearly stopped pretending to be modest months ago. your bare thighs press against the fabric of their sweatpants on either side without care, and the opening credits flicker across the television, casting shifting blue shadows over all three of you.

satoru keeps one arm slung lazily behind your shoulders, fingers tracing idle circles on the nape of your neck. and choso sits closer than usual on your other side, knee brushing yours, his hand resting on your thigh like it’s the most natural place in the world. the movie starts slow, all tension and quiet dread, and you sink deeper into the cushions, letting their warmth bleed into you.

“you cold?” satoru murmurs right against your ear, breath ghosting over the shell and you shiver even though the room is anything but.

“a little,” you lie, because admitting you just like the way his fingers feel would be embarrassing.

his hand slides under the hem of the tee without needing to ask, palm flat against your stomach and sliding further to hug the length of your waist, warm and broad. “better?” he asks, and you nod, eyes still glued to the screen even as your pulse kicks up.

choso doesn’t say anything at first. he just watches the way your body relaxes under satoru’s touch, making a mental notes of it. then his hand moves too— higher up your thigh, thumb stroking the soft inner skin in slow, deliberate passes. you shift a little, thighs pressing together, but neither of them stops. the movie’s tension builds on screen, a jump scare makes you jolt, and suddenly satoru’s mouth is on your neck, open and hot, teeth grazing the spot right under your ear like he’s been waiting for an excuse to do that.

you freeze for half a second. “what—”

“you’ll let us help you relax, won’t you?” he whispers, lips brushing your skin with every word. “you’ve just been so tense lately, baby.”

the pet name lands like a spark and you can’t help but tilt your head to offer him more space. your breath hitches exactly the way it always does when they say things like that, and choso’s fingers tighten on your thigh, inching higher under the hem until they brush the edge of your panties. you should probably say something, should probably laugh it off and shove them away like it’s still just friendly roughhousing. but the way choso’s fingertips trace the cotton makes your stomach tighten, a low heat blooming low in your belly that you haven’t felt in months.

satoru is the first to kiss you.

it’s soft at the start, almost careful, his hand cupping your jaw to tilt your face toward him, glasses crooked on his nose. his tongue slips past your lips when you kiss back, like he’s testing the waters, and when you make a small surprised sound he deepens it, hungry now, licking into your mouth until you’re melting against him.

shortly after, you feel choso crowding you from the other side, pressing his mouth to your jaw, waiting for you to turn just enough that he can have a turn. when you pull back to look at him, his brows pinched together and mouth parted with soft breaths, you can’t help but practically take a bite of his lips.

it’s freakishly good, you realize, even if more saliva coats your lips and drips down your chin each time you switch between kissing them. you don’t care about the mess though, and neither do they as they swallow up all your sounds. you’re panting into their mouths, hands fisting in their shirts, and the movie is completely forgotten.

“fuck, you taste good,” choso groans against your lips when you switch to him again. his hand slides higher under the shirt until he’s cupping your bare breast, thumb circling your nipple until it pebbles tight. satoru mirrors him on the other side, pinching gently, rolling the sensitive peak between his fingers until your back arches off the couch.

you whimper, the sound small and needy, and that’s when they really set their plan in motion. choso’s hand dips between your thighs, pushing your panties aside with two fingers. you’re already wet, embarrassingly so, and he lets out a quiet, satisfied hum as he spreads the slickness up to your clit. satoru keeps kissing you, swallowing every little gasp while your other roommate starts those slow, flat circles exactly like the pinned guide on reddit described. the pressure is perfect, steady, never too fast or too slow, and your hips twitch involuntarily toward his hand.

“that’s it,” choso murmurs, voice low and clinical even as his pupils are blown wide. “just feel it.”

satoru’s fingers join choso’s, two of them pressing at your entrance while choso keeps working your clit. they slide in together—slow, thick, stretching you open in a way that makes your toes curl.

pushed right up against your anterior wall, choso’s fingers prod around to find the right spot until your head falls back against the couch, mouth open on a silent moan as they finger you in perfect sync.

“oh g-god,” you breathe, thighs shaking. the stretch is so full, the pressure building fast and heavy. it’s almost too much all at once, and your grateful when satoru’s slender fingers slip out to focus on your clit.

you can hear how wet you are, the obscene little sounds of their fingers moving in your soaked cunt sounding under the movie’s forgotten soundtrack. one of them leans down and latches his mouth onto your nipple through the shirt, sucking hard, and that’s what tips you over.

the orgasm crashes through you without warning— deep, pulsing waves that start in your core and ripple outward until your whole body locks up. your walls clamp down around choso’s fingers, fluttering and squeezing, and you gush around them, slick dripping down his knuckles onto the couch. it feels like liquid heat pouring through your veins, every nerve lighting up at once, your clit throbbing under the steady circles until you’re whimpering and trying to close your legs from the intensity.

they don’t stop right away. they keep stroking you through it, drawing it out until you’re trembling and oversensitive, little aftershocks making your hips jerk.

“so good,” satoru praises right against your ear, and the words send another helpless spasm through you. “look at you, taking us so well already. just like we knew you would.”

choso pulls his fingers away first, shiny and glistening. he brings them to his mouth and licks them clean without breaking hazy eye contact with you, and the sight makes your pussy clench around nothing. satoru follows, sucking his own fingers with a filthy little moan.

you’re still catching your breath when they move you, gentle but firm, until you’re straddling satoru’s lap facing away from him, shirt rucked up around your waist, panties discarded somewhere near the coffee table. choso kneels beside you on the couch, one hand on your hip, the other rubbing soothing lines along your thigh.

satoru’s cock is out by this point, hard and flushed and leaking at the tip, and he guides you down so the thick length slides right between your soaked folds without pushing inside, slow and deliberate. he rocks his hips up, letting the length of him glide against your clit with every pass, the head bumping your entrance on every forward stroke but never slipping in. the friction is maddening, hot velvet dragging over your most sensitive spots.

you moan loud, head tipping back against satoru’s shoulder. “please—fuck, it feels—”

“we know,” choso says quietly, voice rough. he leans in and kisses you deep, tongue fucking into your mouth while his fingers pinch and roll your puffy nipples. satoru’s hands grip your hips hard, guiding you to grind down harder on his cock, the slick sounds loud and wet between your bodies. every slide makes your pussy lips part around him, coating his entire length in your arousal until he’s glistening.

the pleasure builds again, faster this time, coiling tight and hot each time your peaks are pinched in the exact rhythm that makes your breath catch. you’re helping drag yourself along satoru’s length, hips rolling desperately, chasing that perfect drag against your clit. your walls flutter around nothing, thighs shaking violently as you soak satoru’s cock and cry out into choso’s mouth, body jerking, slick dripping down satoru’s shaft in messy streaks even more the closer you get.

his breathing is ragged against your neck too, but he doesn’t push inside yet. instead he keeps grinding up, but stops abruptly when he feels you tensing again.

“think she’s ready for more?” satoru asks, voice husky and directed at his research partner despite your disappointed whines. his fingertips dig into your hips too, keeping you from chasing your own pleasure.

“just wait a moment, wanna try something quickly.”

he shifts lower, sliding off the couch to kneel between your spread thighs. satoru holds you open for him, hands hooked under your knees and holding them up to prevent you from hiding, and choso leans in and drags his tongue flat up the entire length of your heat in one long, slow lick. the sensation is overwhelming now that your so close to the edge—wet heat, the soft pressure of his tongue, the way he moans against you like you’re the best thing he’s ever tasted. he seals his lips around your clit and sucks gently, exactly like the reddit guide said, then flicks his tongue in quick little strokes while two fingers slide back inside you and curl.

you sob, hands flying to his hair, hips bucking against his face. satoru keeps you pinned, muttering against your ear, “so fucking pretty like this, letting us play with you. we love seen a lot of pussies, you know, just so we could do this, but your’s is the prettiest one by far.”

choso eats you out like he’s been studying for this exact moment, several saved clips and instructions replaying in his head to guide his movements. the suction on your clit combined with the steady curling inside makes your vision spark white, just as expected. but once again, the finish is denied as he pulls away and leaves you trembling, a broken moan tearing from your throat as you beg incoherently.

with a final kiss to your clit, he pulls back entirely, lips shiny, glasses fogged. he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and looks up at you with something almost reverent.

“‘kay,” he says. “go ahead.”

satoru doesn’t wait. he lifts you just enough to line himself up and sinks you down onto his cock in one smooth, deep thrust. the stretch is perfect; thick and hot and filling you so full you forget how to breathe for a moment. reverse cowgirl seems to be the best option, since it means the downward curve of his dick can punch that spot inside you instantly, and you cry out, nails digging into his forearms around your waist.

choso stays right there between your legs, one hand on your clit, the other reaching up to play with your breasts while satoru starts fucking up into you in slow, controlled rolls of his hips.

you’re lost in it now, completely needy, rocking back to meet every thrust, moaning their names like a prayer. “satoru—choso—fuck, pleasepleaseplease—w-wanna cum!”

satoru’s grip tightens, pace picking up. choso leans in and sucks one of your nipples into his mouth again, deciding it’s his new favorite treat as his tongue flicks in time with satoru’s thrusts. the stimulation is everywhere—deep inside, on your clit, on your tits, their hands and mouths claiming every inch of you. and they finally let you cum again on satoru’s cock, walls clamping down so hard he groans loud, hips stuttering.

but he doesn’t finish inside you. right as his rhythm starts to falter he lifts you off, cock slipping free with a wet sound. “not yet,” he pants in response to your protests. “turn around for choso.”

once again they manage to position you however they want.

choso sits back on the couch now, pants shoved down just enough, his cock flushed dark and leaking. you’re on all fours in front of him in seconds, ass up, face resting on satoru’s lap. he slides into you in slowly, pausing every few inches because he knows he’s a bit thicker than the other one that was in you, the new angle making your eyes roll back.

but that carefulness melts away as soon as you get used to the first few thrusts, so he fucks you hard and steady, one hand fisted in the short at the small of your back, the other reaching around to rub your clit exactly the way you need.

wordlessly, satoru slides his hand under your chin to lift your fucked out face, using his other hand to tap the tip of his glistening dick against your swollen lips with a mocking pout. you suck him messily, drooling around his length, tongue swirling the head clumsily while you’re being pounded into from behind.

choso’s cock dragging against your g-spot with every thrust, satoru’s length heavy on your tongue, the wet sounds of skin slapping and your own muffled moans filling the room—

it all feels like a blessing after all those disappointing men, to say the least.

shaking between them, you gush around choso’s cock, your subsequent scream muffled by your full mouth as you arch deep and try to pull more of him in.

you sob around satoru, tears pricking your eyes from the intensity of your orgasm, every muscle in your body seizing and releasing in white-hot waves. the pleasure is so deep it borders on painful, your pussy gushing around choso’s thrusts until the couch is soaked beneath you. but keeps fucking you through it, pace faltering just a little as he fights his own release.

satoru pulls out of your mouth with a wet pop, stroking himself fast. “gonna cum on you,” he pants. “p-please, baby, wanna see it on your tongue.”

you stick your tongue out obediently, eyes glassy as you peer up at him through damp lashes, and satoru groans at the sight. thick ropes of cum paint your tongue and lips, some spilling down your chin and dripping onto your shirt and his sweats.

the sight pushes choso over the edge. he pulls out at the last second, jerking himself furiously until he spills across your ass and lower back in hot, heavy pulses, the mess sliding down your skin and mixing with your own slick, whimpered curses slipping from his mouth.

you collapse forward to bury your face in satoru’s lap again, trembling, covered in their release, pussy still fluttering from the aftershocks. you feel the mess dripping down your thighs, smeared across your chest, fabric ruined. they’re both breathing hard, eyes dark and satisfied as they take in the sight of you wrecked between them.

satoru leans down and kisses your forehead, gentle now. “you did so good, baby.”

choso strokes your hair, pulling you up to get a look at your face. he tucks you against the curve of his neck with a hum? thumb brushing your cum-slick cheek. “perfect data,” he murmurs, so quiet you almost miss it.

you’re too blissed out to ask what he means. you just curl into them, needy and sated and already wondering when they’ll do it again. the movie is still playing in the background, completely ignored, while the three of you stay tangled on the couch in the afterglow—sticky, breathless, and closer than you’ve ever been.

the spreadsheet will get several new rows tomorrow. but tonight, step three is complete.

STEP 4 ❤︎ FORMULATE A CONCLUSION !

the morning light filters through the half-broken blinds, painting lazy stripes across the tangled mess of limbs and stained fabric on the couch. choso wakes first, glasses askew on his face, one arm still draped possessively over your waist like he never let go even in sleep.

satoru stirs seconds later, white hair a disaster, blinking at the ceiling with the slow realization that his heart is doing something stupid and loud in his chest. his own glasses fell off the couch somewhere in the night.

they glance at each other over your sleeping form, blinking. then finally they glance down at you—your cheek smushed against choso’s chest, dried cum flaking on your chin and thighs, having fallen asleep despite them insisting to get you cleaned up—and the spreadsheet suddenly feels ridiculous.

“shit,” satoru whispers, voice cracking with something that isn’t just post-nut clarity. “how fucked are we?”

“very.”

STEP 5 ❤︎ SHARE FINDINGS !