featured employees: sunghoon x fem!reader | custom order 📋
staff notes: haha me next.. im so serious.. is this thing on? helloooo
“so fucking pretty like this,” sunghoon grunted, his hips slamming into yours.
he had your legs pinned to your chest, hands gripping the back your thighs, using his weight to pin you down as he thrusted into you. you were already leaking from his fifth load of the night. you’d lost count how many times you’ve cum yourself. you two had been going at it for almost two hours, no breaks, because sunghoon wanted to fill you up as much as possible.
his pace sharpened, thrusts becoming hard and deliberate, the wet sounds between you two filling the room. he pulled out until just the tip was in before slamming back into you, the head of his dick hitting against the spot that made your toes curl every time.
“fuck— look baby,” he leaned back. he slid a hand above the visible bulge in your lower stomach. “see how deep i am inside you?”
all you could manage was a shaky nod and a broken moan, too cockdrunk to form words. he’d be lying if he said he felt bad—because he didn’t. he had a plan and was sticking to it.
“gonna make you a mommy,” he muttered, sliding his arms beneath you to grip your ass. he fucked into you harder, forcing himself deeper.
it didn’t take long for him or you to cum again. yours ripped through you like a shock, only longer, more intense.
“there you go,” he groaned, his voice rough as he stretched you out just right. his rhythm slowed, pumping a fresh load of thick white ropes inside you. he kept his grip on you tight, grinding through both of your releases, pushing his seed deeper with short, lazy thrusts.
“all for you, baby. that’s all for you.”
your body trembled beneath him, his cum already leaking out of you, soaking into the sheets. sunghoon didn’t stop there—he couldn’t. he refused to actually. he flipped you onto your stomach, dragged a finger between your sensitive folds, gathering a mix of your own orgasm and his cum.
“you see that, babe? you’re such a messy girl for me,” he said proudly, climbing over you, his knees on either side of your thighs, locking you under him.
he lined his dick up with your soaked entrance, not giving you enough to time brace yourself before pushing himself right in. the pleasure shoots right through you, making your body tremble.
“f-fuck— hoon— please…” you choked out, nails digging into the back of his thigh.
“i know, baby. i know…” he cooed against your ear, lips trialing kisses down your neck and across your shoulder. “you’re doing so good. taking me so well.”
his chest melted into your spine like it belonged there, bodies aligning. his hips rolled slowly, carefully, every push going deeper. the complete opposite from how he was fucking you a minute ago.
“cmon, lemme see that pretty face while i fill you up.” he slid a hand around your neck—not to choke, just enough to tilt your head back and get a good look at you.
your face was flushed, eyes glassy, lips parted, soft whimpers spilling out. your walls fluttered around him as another lazy orgasm passed through you.
“last one, baby— fuck.. i promise,” he strained, his grip tightening slightly as he delivers one final thrust. he slid a hand under your stomach, wanting to feel himself inside you as he pumped you full.
sunghoon pushes forward again, grinding the head of his dick against that sensitive spot once more. he didn’t stop until every drop was buried deep. he stayed there until his own hips gave out.
“so pretty when you’re full.” he breathes, pressing a kiss against your temple before looking down at the mess he made inside of you.
# | store disclaimer: all work is fictional and is not a real depiction of our staff outside the store !
pairing: bi!sunghoon x sub!reader x bi!jake || wc: 2.6k || cw: smut! best friends!sunghoon and jake, voyeurism, masturbation, threesome, kissing, making out, oral (f and m rec.), handjobs, fingering, breast/nipple play, p in v, unprotected sex (don't.), cum play, mxm, dirty talk, strong language, use of petnames, mentions of alcohol || warnings: +18 content, mdni! || a/n: this was all thanks to this request and i'm unwell haha.
the three of you have always been close — too close, some people say. jake, sunghoon, and you. best friends since the beginning of college, the kind who share late-night snacks, inside jokes that make no sense to outsiders, and secrets that could ruin reputations if they ever got out. but this particular secret is new, and it’s deliciously dangerous.
you’re in jake’s apartment tonight, the one with the big couch and the soft lighting he always leaves on because he knows you like it. you’re dating jake — sort of. it started as hooking up after one too many drunk nights, but it’s evolved into something warmer, more consistent. it feels exclusive, even if you haven’t put a label on it yet. sunghoon knows everything. he always does. he’s seen the hickeys on your neck, heard the muffled sounds through the walls when he crashes on the couch, and never once made it weird.
until tonight.
“i’ve been thinking,” sunghoon says casually from his spot on the armchair, long legs stretched out. he’s nursing a beer, eyes flicking between you and jake on the couch. you’re curled into jake’s side, his arm draped around your shoulders, fingers playing lazily with the strap of your tank top.
jake raises an eyebrow, teeth flashing as he smiles. “dangerous words coming from you, hoon.”
sunghoon’s gaze lingers on you a second too long, then shifts to jake. there’s something darker in his eyes tonight, a curiosity that’s been building for weeks. “i want to watch.”
the words drop like a stone into still water. you freeze, heat flooding your face. jake’s hand stills on your shoulder.
sunghoon nods, not backing down. his cheeks are faintly pink but his jaw is set. “yeah. you two. i know you’re fucking. i’ve known for a while. and i… i’m curious. about how it looks. how you are with her.”
you swallow hard, glancing at jake. he’s watching sunghoon carefully, but there’s no anger there — just intrigue, and maybe a spark of something hotter. jake has always been open, playful in bed. this wouldn’t be the first boundary you two have pushed.
“you sure?” you ask sunghoon softly. “it might… change things, or make them weird.”
“i’m sure,” he says, voice steady. “if you’re both okay with it.”
jake looks at you, searching your face. you bite your lip, then nod. the idea sends a thrill through you — sunghoon’s intense stare on you while jake touches you. you’ve always found sunghoon attractive, tall and sharp-featured with that quiet intensity. knowing he wants to see you like this… it’s intoxicating, to say the least.
“okay,” jake says, grinning that charming grin. “but you stay in the chair unless we say otherwise.”
sunghoon settles back, legs spreading a little wider, beer forgotten on the side table.
jake turns to you first, cupping your jaw and pulling you into a slow kiss. it’s familiar, warm, the kind that always makes your stomach flutter. his tongue slides against yours lazily, deepening it as his hand trails down your neck, thumb brushing your collarbone. you sigh into his mouth, already melting.
sunghoon’s breathing is audible across the room.
jake peels your tank top off slowly, exposing your bra. he kisses down your neck, sucking lightly at the spot he knows drives you crazy. you arch into him, fingers threading through his soft hair. when he reaches behind you to unhook your bra, letting it fall away, you hear sunghoon shift in his seat.
“fuck,” sunghoon breathes. his voice is rough already. “she’s gorgeous.”
jake smiles against your skin. “isn’t she?” he palms one of your breasts, thumb circling your nipple until it hardens. you moan softly, eyes fluttering open to look at sunghoon.
he’s watching intently, lips parted, one hand gripping the arm of the chair. his eyes are dark, fixed on every movement.
jake lays you back on the couch, stripping your shorts and panties down your legs. you’re completely bare now, and sunghoon’s gaze drags over you like he's physically touching you — your breasts, the curve of your waist, the wetness already glistening between your thighs.
“touch her,” sunghoon says quietly. it’s not a demand, but there’s hunger in it.
jake chuckles softly and spreads your legs, settling between them. he kisses down your stomach, then lower, tongue flicking out to taste you. you gasp, back arching as he licks broad stripes over your clit, sucking gently. your hand flies to his hair, hips rolling against his mouth.
sunghoon leans forward slightly, elbows on his knees. his eyes are glued to where jake’s tongue is working you open. “does she taste good?” he asks, voice strained.
“so fucking good,” jake murmurs against you, the vibrations making you whimper. he pushes two fingers inside you slowly, curling them just right while his mouth stays on your clit.
you’re moaning louder now, eyes locked with sunghoon’s. the way he’s watching you — like he’s starving — pushes you closer to the edge faster than usual.
but then jake pulls back, stripping his own shirt off. sunghoon’s gaze shifts immediately to jake’s toned chest, the way his abs flex as he moves. jake catches it and smirks, but doesn’t comment. he sheds his pants and boxers, cock hard and leaking as he strokes himself once.
sunghoon’s breath catches audibly. his eyes widen a fraction, pupils blown as he stares at jake’s length, then at the way jake lines himself up with your entrance.
“ready, baby?” jake asks you, but his eyes flick to sunghoon too.
you nod desperately. jake pushes in slowly, stretching you open with that perfect burn. you moan loudly, nails digging into his shoulders as he bottoms out. he starts thrusting, deep and steady, the wet sounds of your bodies filling the room.
sunghoon is breathing harder. his hand presses against the front of his jeans, palming himself openly now. but it’s not just you he’s staring at. his eyes keep darting to jake — the flex of his back muscles, the way his hips snap forward, the sheen of sweat on his skin, the low groans he makes every time you clench around him.
something shifts in sunghoon’s expression. realization. heat. confusion and want all at once.
“jake…” he whispers, almost to himself. his hand slips inside his jeans, wrapping around his own cock as he watches his best friend fuck you. the sight of jake’s cock disappearing into you over and over, glistening with your arousal, combined with your breathy moans — it’s too much.
he’s hard as steel, throbbing in his own grip, and the arousal hitting him while watching jake is undeniable. he always knew he liked you. the little attractions, the lingering hugs, the way he’d get jealous when jake touched you. but this — the way his stomach tightens seeing jake’s flushed chest, the veins on his forearms, the way his jaw clenches in pleasure — it’s new. overwhelming. bi awakening crashing over him like a wave.
“hoon,” you gasp, reaching a hand toward him. “come closer.”
sunghoon hesitates only a second before standing, jeans open, cock heavy in his hand as he moves to the edge of the couch. up close, he can see everything — the way jake’s cock stretches you, the slick sounds, your face twisted in ecstasy.
jake slows his thrusts, looking up at sunghoon with dark eyes. “you like watching me fuck her?”
sunghoon swallows hard, nodding. his voice is wrecked. “yeah. fuck, i do. both of you… i didn’t expect—”
“it’s okay,” you whisper, cupping his cheek. your thumb brushes his lower lip. “touch yourself while he fucks me. or… touch us.”
that breaks the last of his restraint.
sunghoon leans down and kisses you first — hesitant, then hungry, tongue sliding against yours as jake starts thrusting again. you moan into sunghoon’s mouth, one hand on his chest, the other reaching down to wrap around his cock. he’s big, hot, leaking precum as you stroke him in time with jake’s movements.
“shit,” sunghoon groans against your lips. “your hand feels so good.”
jake watches the two of you, hips snapping harder. “he’s pretty when he’s desperate, isn’t he, baby?”
you nod, dazed, squeezing sunghoon’s cock a little tighter. sunghoon’s free hand finds your breast, pinching your nipple while he kisses you deeper. then, almost shyly at first, his other hand reaches out to touch jake’s shoulder, sliding down his back, feeling the muscles move as jake fucks you.
jake shivers under the touch but doesn’t pull away. if anything, he leans into it.
then, the dynamic shifts. jake pulls out suddenly, flipping you onto your hands and knees so you’re facing sunghoon. “suck him while i fuck you from behind.”
you don’t hesitate. you take sunghoon into your mouth, tongue swirling around the head as he groans loudly, hand gently guiding your head. jake thrusts back into you, deeper in this position, hitting that spot that makes you see stars. every thrust pushes you further onto sunghoon’s cock, and the sounds are obscene — wet gagging, skin slapping, broken moans from all three of you.
sunghoon’s eyes are fixed on jake now too, watching his best friend pound into you, hands gripping your hips. “jake… you look so fucking hot like this,” he admits breathlessly, the words spilling out in the heat of it. “both of you. i can’t— i didn’t know i wanted this too.”
jake reaches over your back, grabbing sunghoon’s free hand and pulling it to your hip, then lower, guiding sunghoon’s fingers to where his cock is sliding in and out of you. sunghoon groans at the feeling — the stretch, the wetness, the way you flutter around jake.
“touch me too,” jake says roughly.
sunghoon does, hesitant at first, then bolder — palming jake’s balls, then wrapping fingers around the base of jake’s cock as it moves. jake moans loudly, hips stuttering.
the three of you move together like that for what feels like hours — a messy, perfect rhythm that blurs time and leaves the room thick with the scent of sex and sweat.
you’re on your hands and knees on the couch, mouth full of sunghoon’s cock as you suck him sloppily, spit dripping down your chin while your tongue swirls around the head and takes him deeper with every forward rock of your body.
jake is behind you, fucking you in steady, deep thrusts that punch the breath out of your lungs every time he bottoms out. the wet, obscene sound of his hips slapping against your ass mixes with your muffled moans and sunghoon’s low, broken groans.
sunghoon’s hand is gentle in your hair, not forcing but guiding, his thumb stroking your cheek almost reverently even as his cock twitches on your tongue. his other hand keeps wandering — brushing over your back, then reaching further to touch jake wherever he can reach. fingers tracing the flexing muscles of jake’s shoulder, sliding down the sweat-slick line of his spine, then lower, palming jake’s ass as he thrusts into you. every new touch makes sunghoon’s breath hitch harder, like he’s still shocked by how much he wants this.
“fuck… look at you,” sunghoon murmurs, voice wrecked and awed. “taking both of us so well.”
jake groans in agreement, one hand gripping your hip tightly while the other reaches around to rub your clit in tight circles. “she’s perfect. so fucking wet for us. you feel how tight she gets when you touch me, hoon? she loves it.”
sunghoon nods shakily, eyes locked on where jake’s cock disappears inside you over and over, glistening with your arousal. the sight combined with the heat of your mouth around him is driving him insane. his hips start twitching forward more desperately, fucking your throat a little deeper as his usual cool composure completely unravels.
eventually jake slows his thrusts, pulling out with a wet sound that makes you whine around sunghoon’s cock. he flips you gently onto your back, spreading your legs wide. “your turn, hoon. fuck her while she strokes me.”
sunghoon doesn’t need to be told twice. he moves between your thighs, eyes dark and hungry as he lines himself up. he pushes in slowly at first, savoring every inch, jaw dropping at the tight, wet heat enveloping him. “oh my god… baby,” he breathes, the pet name slipping out naturally. he bottoms out with a shudder, staying still for a moment just to feel you clench around him.
you reach for jake, wrapping your hand around his slick cock and stroking him steadily. jake leans down to kiss you messily, tongue sliding against yours while sunghoon starts moving — gentle, rolling thrusts at first, like he’s memorizing the feeling. but it doesn’t stay gentle for long. his control snaps, hips speeding up until he’s thrusting deep and hard, the couch creaking beneath you. every snap of his hips forces broken moans from your throat.
sunghoon pants, moaning both your name and jake’s in the same breath like he can’t separate the pleasure anymore. “feels so good… both of you.”
jake kisses you harder, then pulls back just enough to lean over and capture sunghoon’s mouth in a kiss — tentative at first, testing, lips brushing softly. sunghoon freezes for half a second, then surges forward into it, turning the kiss deep and filthy, tongues tangling as he keeps fucking you harder. the sight alone makes you clench around him.
it’s overwhelming. it's fucking perfect. the air is thick with moans and gasps and the wet sounds of bodies moving together. sunghoon’s hand finds one of your breasts, pinching your nipple while jake’s fingers return to your clit, rubbing fast. you’re caught between them, pleasure building impossibly high until it crashes over you.
you come first with a sharp cry, back arching clean off the couch as your walls flutter and squeeze around sunghoon’s cock. the intensity triggers his own orgasm almost immediately — he buries himself deep, hips stuttering as he spills inside you with a loud, broken moan of your name mixed with jake’s. his whole body trembles through it, face buried against your neck.
jake follows seconds later, stroking himself furiously over your bodies. thick ropes of cum paint your stomach, your breasts, and sunghoon’s chest where he’s still leaning over you. jake groans deeply, milking every last drop as he watches the mess he’s made on both of you.
after that, the three of you collapse in a tangled, sweaty pile on the couch. limbs are everywhere — sunghoon’s head resting heavily on your stomach, breathing hard against your skin, while jake sprawls half on top of both of you, one arm wrapped protectively around your waist and the other draped over sunghoon’s back. the room feels warm and hazy, hearts still racing as the high slowly ebbs.
sunghoon’s breathing is still shaky as he processes everything, fingers tracing idle patterns on your hip. after a long silence, he lets out a soft, disbelieving laugh.
“that was… my bi awakening, i think,” he admits quietly, voice hoarse. “i knew i liked her. i’ve liked her for a while. the way she laughs, the way she fits between us… but watching you, jake — fuck. the way you moved, the sounds you made, how you looked fucking her… i didn’t expect to want that too. want you too.”
jake presses a gentle kiss to sunghoon’s temple, then leans over to kiss your forehead, his dimples soft and warm. “good. because we’re not done tonight. not even close. we’ve got all night to figure this out… together.”
you smile sleepily, contentment settling deep in your chest as your fingers card gently through sunghoon’s damp hair. the three of you — best friends who have always been a little too close, a little too intertwined — finally feel like something more. lovers. a unit. whatever this is now, it fits perfectly, like it was always meant to be this way.
and there are many more nights ahead where curious eyes turn into wandering hands, shared pleasure, and something that feels a lot like love.
he's that kind of boyfriend isn't he??? no I'm just saying shit he's not. he's a perfect gentleman. but i can dream, right? 🥵🥵🥵🤤🤤🤤💦💦💦🌊🌊🌊 lowkey perv jju
synopsis | your boyfriend has quite the appetite after his practice ends early.
details | boyfriend!euijoo x female!reader, idol au, detailed and frequent descriptions of food/cooking, 18+ SMUT MINORS DNI, oral (f rec.), established relationship, reader is shy, body worship, slight body description (curves, plush, etc.), tit kisser!wiju, biting and marking, burnt the garlic, soft dom!juju, lowercase intended, cursing
wc | 3k
from the author | im gonna eat him next... 1/3 wishes granted for @andrabunica
the difference in your schedules made the idea a quality time together a thing of dreams. you spent time together, sure, for the three hours your circadian rhythms allowed you to lay, enveloped in his arms under too-hot blankets just before you had to rise and start your day. in a rare instance, your day off would align divinely with his company’s sick idea of a schedule, and the two of you would spend a lazy morning together. ideally, it was spent swirling too much creamer in your coffee and putting on a movie you’d been wanting to watch for a while, halfway paying attention to the unfortunately terrible plot and mostly stealing kisses, as if you had a certain, unreachable quota to hit every day.
but that time wasnt quality– it was scraping crumbs off the table, craving another scoop of overpriced ice cream. there was a flashing sign above your heads, bright red numbers counting down the minutes until he had to leave for practice, predicting the weeks he would be gone for tour, promising endings before they’d even begun.
so, when euijoo texted you this evening, when your phone screen lit up with his charming contact photo, and said that practice was ending early, you felt no shame jumping around with excitement; an evening with euijoo was even rarer than a morning. earlier in your relationship, you had stayed up later just to kiss him goodnight. that was not sustainable for you, though, as it resulted in a maximum of four hours of sleep per night and turned you into a zombie of sorts. no brain, too much heart.
you planned it all out: you’d cook his favorite while he showered, you’d eat together at the dinner table that rarely received any attention, and, then, the two of you would load up that game he had bought a few weeks ago without a spare moment to play. you washed all the produce, chopped the veggies, and were executing a flawless saute, deglazing the pan with white wine and everything like a real chef, when the front door creaked open and clicked shut. euijoo’s gentle footsteps padded all the way to the kitchen, and you felt your heart skip at the sight of him in the doorway. his broad shoulders were cloaked in a loose fitting jacket with matching sweatpants hanging low on his hips, his hair tousled and slightly damp over his forehead. he was glowing, and obviously tired, but he still smiled so wide that it went straight to his eyes, cheeks round and flushed.
“what’s the occasion?” he asked, peering around deeper into the kitchen as if something were going to jump out at him, “are we having company?”
“no occasion, and no company,” you hummed and stirred the vegetables in the pan, the steam rising in dramatic puffs. your voice was perhaps too sweet as you tilted your head over your shoulder and said, “just you.”
“all this for me?” euijoo palmed his chest, crossing the kitchen to join you, “smells amazing, baby. you’re too good to me.” two arms snaked around your waist, sure and deliberate by the squeeze under your ribs. the hair on the back of your neck stood up as he tucked his face into the bend of your neck, the warmth of his cheek against your shoulder soothing any chills that threatened to slide up your spine at the contact. he inhaled, and, with another squeeze to your waist, sighed against your skin, “i’m starving.”
“so impatient,” you giggled, “it’ll be done soon.”
but euijoo didn’t budge. he hummed, the sound traveling through his chest and directly into yours where your heart stumbled in its place. “soon?” he repeated, this time letting his breath ghost directly over the side of your neck, right over your quivering pulsepoint. and then you felt it– a warm, slow kiss dipping beneath your ear. you gasped at the feeling, at the grazing of his teeth on your sensitive flesh and at the immediate soothing of his tongue, soft and wet. he released you from his hold only to shift his hands to your hips. euijoo mumbled against you, and you knew exactly what he meant when he said, “i’m hungry now.”
just like that, your plans were shattered, along with any part of you that might have pushed back against his insatiable urges. you would have been a fool to argue that garlic was more important than quality time with your boyfriend, especially as he reached over your shoulder and flipped the little knob on the stove. the once glowing rim of heat beneath the pan faded to nothing, the vegetables in the skillet still sizzling from residual heat. euijoo tilted your head to look at him over your shoulder, connecting your mouths in a sensual, hungry kiss that all but swallowed you whole. he moaned into you as you wiggled your hips, dragging the curve of your ass along the front of his sweats. euijoo slid a hand down the front of your torso, firmly planting his palm against your stomach, pushing you harder against him.
“been thinking about you all day, baby,” he mumbled, the thought almost cut short by how intensely he needed his lips on yours, “thinking about your smile.”
“that’s all?” you taunted, grinding against him with one devastating swivel of your hips that had euijoo groaning into your mouth.
“mhm,” his lips traveled down your jaw to your neck, back to that sweet spot where he started all of this. his hand on your stomach slipped past the waistband of your shorts, dipping into your panties, “and about this pussy, how sweet you taste,” he sighed as he breached your folds with impatient fingers, humming soothingly against your sensitive neck as he collected your slick. he said, weakly, “how long its been since i’ve touched you properly.” you’d thought about that, as well; you’d reeled over the struggle to connect in a rushed rut, a goodbye fuck, or as he spilled between your thighs as you slept, just needing to feel you. but you needed to feel him, too.
so, of course, your knees felt weak beneath you, hands bracing the warm cooktop to keep you from melting into a puddle at his feet. euijoo had this effect on you, and it had been that way from the start; his sweet tone, low and timid but absolutely filthy when he wanted something from you. his honey voice dripped with venom, sinking his teeth deep in your neck, plunging his tongue even deeper. his voice was smooth, laced with a hint of amusement, as he asked, “do you want me to touch you, beautiful?” the pads of his fingers hovered over your clit, and you fought your body not to grind down onto them, not yet.
you pulled your lip between your teeth, core fluttering with anticipation, and nodded, “yes, please, euijoo.” but, instead of giving you what he offered, he withdrew his hand from your shorts and left you completely without, just for a second, as he wrapped his arms around your waist and hoisted you in the air. the lift surprised you, the sudden pressure on your lower stomach sending you into a fit of laughter that all but dissolved the tension you’d felt seconds prior. his fingers that were once teasing your eager core were now encircling your hips and carrying you to your bed, his lips peppering kisses over your shoulder the whole way. you loved him for his playful side, and he was so often serious, hardworking. the moments where that part of him chipped away felt like you’d struck pure, shimmering gold, no matter how rare they were.
the floor might as well have been burning hot with how quickly you jumped back into his arms the moment he released your hips. you spun around, leaping up to snake your arms around his neck, capturing his lips. euijoo laughed, smiling into your kiss and holding you up against him, so close that you thought your bodies might merge into one. and you would not have minded one bit. he didn’t care that your hands still kind of smelled like raw onions or that you had oil droplets on the front of your shirt, evidence of the plans you barely tried to uphold. all euijoo cared about was you, having you all to himself for longer than ten minutes at a time.
he lowered you onto the mattress, one hand bracing your head as he made a conscious effort to keep his lips moving against yours, soft and hungry all at the same time. his tongue swept over yours, noses bumping. he was gentle with you despite the desperate heat of his mouth making its way down your body, leaving sparks in its wake and striking every inch of your skin. euijoo hovered over you, pushing your shirt up your torso to attach his lips to the space between your breasts. “so pretty everywhere,” he mumbled, scooping you from the constraints of your bra and suckling one of your nipples into his mouth. the hum that followed went straight to your bones, a soft moan escaping your mouth as your hand stroked the back of his head. “so pretty for me.”
his attention was fully undivided, hands tracing paths along your sides, caressing every dip and slope with the precision of an edge. euijoo worked his mouth down your sternum and the expanse of your stomach until he hovered, like a hummingbird assessing one of those sticky plastic feeders, over your thighs. his heart was beating just as quickly, too; you could feel it in his hands as they gripped your hips, anticipating your reservations and pressing his pulse straight into your skin. a rapid thrum contrasted with the precise, intentional bites along the inside of your legs, tongue smoothing over the ridges created by his teeth. every contact was a blaze along the path to your core; your stomach flipped at the sight of him, eyes glazed over, suckling the plush skin of your thigh between his lips. he hooked his nimble fingers around your panties, soaked through, and you felt your thighs squeeze together, hesitantly, suddenly small under his burning gaze and elegant, long fingers.
“relax for me, baby,” euijoo slid his hands back up the length of your body, lightly tugging your shirt back down over your exposed chest, a considerate gesture that made your heart swell to make more room for him. you couldn’t hold back your smile– it hurt to try. it hurt to resist his sweet, attentive personality, how he seemed to know what was bothering you before you did. he pressed a kiss to the space just above the thin fabric that separated you, “let me take care of you, yeah?”
when you nodded, he had already tugged your underwear off and tossed them somewhere unknown. if you had thought ahead, you would have skipped wearing them altogether. you would have just cooked him dinner in nothing but an apron like the plot of a cliche porno. but you assumed his practice would leave him exhausted, that he would have appreciated not having to do anything for the evening but relax while you treated him. instead, he was treating you, fingers opening your folds, undoubtedly glistening beyond any reasonable amount just from his cruel teasing in the kitchen. the cool sensation of his breath urged your hips forward as you rolled them, just slightly, eager for anything he wanted to give you. still, he hovered; the hummingbird and his nectar, and it was so easy to overindulge on something as sweet as you.
the first swipe of his tongue through your heat stopped your breath in your throat, and you could only hold it there as euijoo’s lips enveloped your soaked folds, insatiably slurping and prodding your fluttering entrance. your body was on fire with him, his hands gripping your hips and his hair tickling your thighs; everything was searing red, like he’d turned the kitchen burner up instead of off. the ceiling was spinning, or maybe it was just your head as you covered your face with your hands, biting your arm to hold back the mewls that pushed against your lips, rolling like boiling water. it felt so good, too good and too fast. it was true that time healed all wounds, but time could also create them, wounds that could only be treated with euijoo’s tongue winding devastating, tight circles around your clit. it was a fast, cauterizing healing, burning in your throat. your teeth dug into the flesh of your mouth as you pressed it firmly against your arm.
he angled his head, letting his tongue flit over your sensitive bud as he pulled your hands away from your face and placed them in his hair instead, urging you to use him. he sighed against you as you threaded your fingers over his scalp. “that feel good?” he wrapped his lips over your clit, rolling the bundle of nerves around in all directions, “let me hear you, darling. wanna hear you say it- wanna hear you.”
“f-feels,” you shuddered as he dragged his flattened tongue up the entirety of your aching pussy, a choked sound escaping you, “fuck- feels amazing. missed this, ju.”
“missed you,” he hummed against you, voice rough like crystallized honey as he asked, “can you look at me while i fuck you with my tongue?”
you could certainly try. you couldn’t see much of anything, though, through the tears that picked your eyes from the overwhelming pleasure blazing up your center, through the dizzying, spinning air clouding your brain. and it only got worse as you tipped your head down and met his focused stare, like he was unraveling your thoughts outside of your head. euijoo kept your thighs open for him, but he didn’t hold you down, leaving you to squeeze his head as the pleasure grew too quickly. and it did, over and over, your short breaths and groans clueing him in to slow his tongue, to bring you right to the edge and then bring you back down. the stretch of his muscle inside of you was good but it was nothing compared to the expert roll of the tip of it on your clit, like magic, like he wished on a star and you fell into his lap. you squeezed your eyes shut involuntarily, directly disobeying his request to watch him. it was too much to see his hair glued to his forehead, his cheeks flushed pink and damp with sweat and you.
“i wish you could see how beautiful you look from here,” euijoo said, pulling one of your hands from his hair and squeezing it. you could have said the same thing about him. but you couldn’t say anything, really, with how close your orgasm was. like a roaring, open flame, it flickered in towering licks, painting your vision with streaks of white– a reflection from the sun at its peak and burning just as hot. anything that wasnt his name or some obscenity chanted in a pathetic, weak cry was completely off the table. “i want you to come on my mouth. can you do that for me, my love?”
it was the easiest thing to do, next to loving him. next to ruining your sleep schedule just to spend time with him. next to nearly chopping your finger off preparing ingredients for his favorite meal, only to become his favorite meal instead. it was the third easiest thing to do and becoming increasingly easier as euijoo sucked at every inch of you, humming and burying his face deeper into your cunt with every roll of your hips, chasing that flame, drowning in its shadow until your vision was eclipsed by pleasure. you’d always heard not to stare into an eclipse, and you didn’t have to worry about that as your eyes screwed helplessly shut, spine contorting as your body ached to go limp. euijoo kept his mouth attached to you, hands groping at your thighs as they spasmed around his head, the physical evidence of your body’s aftershocks, muscles twitching endearingly beneath his palms.
your chest heaved, skin sticky as euijoo finally released you from his mouth. the lower half of his face was shimmering like fresh sap, chin dripping with your essence, and the sight sparked another selfish flame in your core despite your pussy still throbbing from your orgasm. you wanted to kiss him, wanted to lick his chin like melting candy, but you were unusually weak. and the room smelled faintly of soured, burnt garlic– the efforts of your expert-level saute cooked to a crisp on the bottom of the good skillet. the heat was too much for your dinner, too. what wasn’t burnt was definitely cold and upsetting, unsalvagable. you wanted euijoo to get on with it, to take his pants off and fuck you dumb so that you could run back out to the store; you needed more vegetables and to carry out at least part of the perfect plans you’d made. but he hadn’t moved from his spot between your legs, still pressing lazy kisses against your thigh and drawing circles on your lower stomach. he admitted once he liked watching the chill bumps rise wherever he touched.
and when he finally stood up, you were more confused than before. because he pulled his phone out and held it up to his ear. a phone call? now?
“what are you doing?” you asked, hushed. he held up one impatient finger before wiping his chin with the back of his hand. you wrapped your hand around his finger, shaking it insistently, “euijoo, who the hell are you calling?”
“you haven’t eaten yet,” euijoo whispered, like it was the most obvious thing in the world, angling the phone away from his face as it continued to ring on the other end. he pointed his finger, still encased in your weak but demanding fist, at the device. “ordering.”
and, then, it all became very clear to you– you weren’t going to be able to stand long enough to cook anything tonight.
idk if u have done this already but could you do &teamies reacting to the reader calling them a good boy ? ^^
the phrase good boy acts as a psychological trigger for yudai, fuma and nicholas, though each man reacts to the praise through a different lens of desire and submission. while the words are the same, the internal collapse they trigger varies from desperate need to quiet surrender.
yudai is the type to fight the effect until he can't anymore. he likely carries himself with a certain level of pride or stoicism, making the moment he is called a good boy a total breaking point. for yudai, the phrase is a tool of domestication.
when he hears it—especially after he has struggled to complete a difficult or degrading task—his composure shatters. he doesn't just accept the praise; he craves it with a hunger that borders on pathetic.
the words strip away his defenses, leaving him panting and eager, his body instinctively leaning into the touch of whoever is praising him. for yudai, being your good boy means he has finally earned the approval he secretly starves for, turning his strength into a tool for your pleasure.
fuma, by contrast, sinks into the role with a fluid, almost instinctive grace. he doesn't fight the submission; he leans into it, finding a profound sense of peace in the relinquishing of control.
when fuma is called a good boy, his eyes glaze over, and his breathing slows, falling into a trance-like state of obedience. it is a reward that validates his utility. he finds erotic satisfation in the power imbalance, the words acting as a leash that pulls him tighter toward his pretty little master.
for fuma, the phrase is a signal that he is performing exactly as expected, and that validation fuels a desperate need to do even more, pushing himself to the limits of endurance just to hear those two words beautifully whispered in his ear again.
nicholas experiences the phrase as a sharp, electric jolt of arousal. where yudai is desperate and fuma is serene, nicholas is reactive.
being called a good boy triggers an immediate, visceral response in his body—a tightening in his chest and a sudden, heavy ache between his legs. he is the most likely to react with a soft moan or a shudder, his body betraying how much the praise affects him.
for nicholas, the phrase is a mark of ownership. it tells him exactly where he stands in the hierarchy, and that clarity is what turns him on. he thrives on the feeling of being "handled", and the verbal confirmation that he is behaving correctly sends him into a state of high-voltage readiness, making him a pliable, eager toy for you.
while yudai, fuma and nicholas react to the phrase with a sense of surrender of ownership, euijoo, yuma and jo process the good boy trigger through a different set of emotional and physical vulnerabilities. for them, the phrase isn't just a reward: it's a catalyst that unlocks specific, hidden facets of their sexuality.
euijoo reacts to being called a good boy with a sudden, overwhelming wave of tenderness that quickly curdles into raw, needy lust. he is the most likely to be emotionally affected by the praise, his eyes welling up or his lip trembling when the words are spoken.
for euijoo, it feels like a warm embrace and a strict command all at once. it makes him feel seen and cherished, which in turn makes him want to be completely used. when he hears those words, his body goes soft and pliable, his inhibitions vanishing instantly.
he becomes an open book, desperate to please you in any way possible, whether that means taking your fingers down his throat or arching his back to offer his ass, all while looking up with wide, pleading eyes, begging for more of that validation.
yuma views the phrase as a challenge and a victory. he has a playful, perhaps slightly bratty streak, and for him, being called a good boy is the ultimate prize after a period of tension or defiance. he doesn't just sink into the praise; he preens under it.
when he finally earns the title, a smug, heat-filled shiver runs down his spine, and his cock throbs violently against his underwear. for yuma, the words are the "click" of a lock falling into place. it transforms his playful energy into a focused, intense desire to serve.
once he's branded a good boy, he becomes obsessively attentive, his movements becoming precise and eager as he tries to maintain that status, pushing himself to be the most efficient and satisfying toy in the room.
jo experiences the phrase as a total mental shutdown. he is often the one who tries to maintain a facade of competence or coolness, but good boy is the kill-switch for his brain. the moment the words hit his ears, his thoughts scramble, leaving him in a state of pure, mindless arousal.
he doesn't think, only feels. the phrase strips him of his autonomy, reducing him to a creature of pure instinct. jo's reaction is the most physical—his breath hitches, his toes curl, and he often finds himself instinctively kneeling or bowing his head without even realising he's doing it.
for jo, being your good boy means he no longer has to carry the weight of decision-making; he's simply an object for your pleasure, and that liberation sends him into a state of shivering, high intensity heat.
for harua, taki and maki, the phrase "good boy" acts as a psychological key, unlocking reactions that range from a fragile, desperate need for approval to a primal, animalistic surrender. while the others might find peace or arousal, these three experience the phrase as a profound shift in their internal power dynamics.
harua reacts to good boy with a fragile, almost heartbreaking intensity. he carries a deep-seated need for external validation, and when those words are spoken, it feels like a lifeline being thrown to him.
his reaction is characterized by a sudden, breathless stillness; he freezes, his heart hammering against his ribs, as if he's afraid that moving might break the spell. for harua, the phrase is an emotional anchor that grounds him in a state of absolute devotion. it transforms his desire into something sacred and desperate.
he doesn't just want to be fucked; he wants to be owned and kept. when he's called a good boy, he becoms an eager, shivering mess, clinging to you and whimpering, his body trembling with the need to prove his worth through total, selfless submission.
taki experiences the phrase as a spark to powder keg. he possesses a high-energy, almost frantic nature, and good boy is the only thing that can truly center him—by completely overwhelming him.
the moment he hears it, his energy shifts from chaotic to focused, laser-beaming all his attention onto you. it triggers a visceral, physical hunger; his pupils dilate, and he begins to pant, his cock leaking as he instinctively seeks you.
for taki, the phrase is a reward that fuels his stamina. it pushes him into a state of hyper-responsiveness where he will do anything—no matter how degrading or exhausting—just to hear the words again. he becomes a whirlwind of activity, sucking, licking, and rubbing himself against his beautiful princess with a manic, desperate eagerness.
maki processes good boy as a total collapse of his ego. he often presents himself with a certain level of confidence or detachment, but the phrase acts like a physical blow that knocks him off his feet. it is the ultimate "off-switch" for his pride.
when he's called a good boy, he doesn't just submit, he dissolves. his muscles go slack, his gaze becomes glazed and vacant, and he sinks into a state of heavy, drugged-like arousal. for maki, the phrase is a permission slip to stop pretending and simply be a toy.
he becomes incredibly passive and receptive, his body opening up instinctively. whether it's his mouth working relentlessly as you ride his face or his ass relaxing to take a thick plug, maki becomes a mindless vessel of pleasure, his only goal being to remain in that state of praised, mindless oblivion.
