you exhale, trying to ignore the way your pulse is already picking up just from the situation itself. this just couldn't be happening. if it were a condom, no problem, as if you didn’t prefer to do it raw. or whatever small thing like forgetting to buy eggs or chocolate. that's more forgivable than something like a remote control for the very expensive toy he bought to torture you with.

“woo, that’s basically the same thing.”

“not really.”

“there’s no point in me even wearing this if you can’t control it.”

“maybe it’s in my car.”

“maybe?”

“guess we’ll find out.” and just like that, he puts on his shoes and grabs the car keys, heading for the door, leaving you standing there, stomach twisting with the uneasy feeling that he’s not nearly as clueless as he’s pretending to be.

you and wooyoung aren’t dating. you don’t see anyone else, he doesn’t, either. it’s… whatever this is. something in between, exclusive, but unlabeled. days that blur into nights harder to walk away from. kisses that linger, hands that don’t know when to stop because with him, everything always leads somewhere, tension that never really fades.

he calls you angel when you’re trying to be a sweet devil. baby when you’re glaring at him, princess when you’re about to snap, and brat when you behave like one. you call him annoying, dickhead, little shit, sometimes baby slips out, when you’re not thinking too hard about it. 

it’s inevitable. he likes control, thrives on it. pushes until you push back, just to see how far you’ll go before you give in. and you pretend you don’t enjoy it, but you love and appreciate him more than anything; he is your soulmate, perhaps, or at least that's what you like to tell yourself. people don’t ask questions anymore. to them, you’re just wooyoung’s girl, and whether that’s made official or not, you don’t correct them.

the thing is, it’s not just teasing and tension. he knows how to take care of you, too. soften after he’s been rough and give just as much as he takes. he keeps you on your tippy toes, yes, but he also knows exactly how to spoil you and make it feel like you’re the only one he’s paying attention to.

maybe that’s why you stay. and maybe that’s why, even after checking the car and coming up empty, you’re still standing there with him, wearing the damn thing like it wasn’t a mistake to begin with.

“baby, relax,” he says, closing the car door with a soft thud as he locks it, shrugs like it’s nothing. “it’s not the end of the world.”

you stare at him as you wait for him to get on your side so you can walk together to the building. he smirks, stepping closer, just enough to mess with your already delicate balance. you open your mouth to argue, but he cuts you off.

“if you’re that desperate,” murmuring as he doesn’t look bothered. if anything, he looks more amused. “i can always take care of it myself.”

“how, exactly?” you ask, and his gaze stops at your face, taking in your beautiful features once again.

“my fingers,” he adds, like he’s listing options. “my mouth. whatever my princess needs.”

you swallow, trying to hold your ground, even as heat creeps up your neck, then he leans in just enough, voice brushing past your ear, “but don’t even think about asking for more. not with that attitude you had earlier.”

your breath catches for half a second before you recover, shoving lightly at his chest. you hate how his words settle somewhere under your skin, because as much as you want to think otherwise, you know he means it.

the place is quieter than you expected. you and wooyoung are the first to arrive early, for once. when you checked the time, you realized you’d be here almost twenty minutes ahead of everyone else. you’re usually right on time, or at least not the first through the door.

“hey, don’t think too much about it,” he murmurs as you stand in front of the door after ringing the bell, his hand settling at your lower back, warm against your bare skin. “just relax and try to have fun.”

right on cue, the door swings open, and there he is — the man of the hour.

“wooyoung, (name), didn’t expect you to come that early,” YUNHO says, greeting you both with that charming and welcoming smile.

“congratulations on the ten million, yu!” you say, handing him the small gift bag. “this is from me and woo, something small, but from the heart.”

“you shouldn’t have, your support was already enough,” he cuts in, taking it with a grin. “but thank you. now come in.” 

he lets you both inside, already talking about the milestone and how unexpected it was. he figured it was worth celebrating with the people closest to him. ten million subscribers on youtube, a diamond button, and a whole career built off a screen, and somehow still the same yunho you’ve always known.

you settle onto the couch, nodding along as you listen. beside you, wooyoung drops down without a second thought, legs spreading to take up more space than necessary, his arm draping over your shoulders, a little territorial. yunho moves around in front of you, back turned as he fixes up drinks, adjusting things here and there. then he reaches for the remote on the table. 

“let me just put something on while we wait for the others.”

you barely notice it at first, until you do. a faint vibration, subtle enough to miss if you weren’t already on edge. but then you feel it a little stronger now, your entire body goes still. next to you, wooyoung doesn’t move, but you catch the slight tension in him before he relaxes again. he knows something you don’t. 

yunho keeps clicking absentmindedly, frowning at the tv. “why isn’t this turning on?”

your fingers curl into the hem of your skirt, trying your very best to stay calm and not to move so much, because the tv isn’t the thing he turned on.

the realization hits wooyoung first. his gaze flicks to the remote in his friend's hand, then back to you. so that’s where it went, huh? a few days ago, you were at yunho’s again, along with san and mingi. hanging out and trying a new game while the youtuber showed off his new tv, whose remote looked almost identical to the other one for the vibrator.

because if that remote is in yunho’s hand, then that means — yes, the tv remote is at wooyoung’s place, tucked away somewhere after he probably took it by mistake. and he had been wondering why the toy wasn’t working, thought the batteries had died or that it needed charging. clearly, he hadn’t bothered to check. he told you he lost it to avoid nagging from you about breaking expensive things again.

wooyoung leans back into the couch, the initial surprise fading as amusement settles in. his hand squeezes your shoulder gently, almost reassuring, if it weren’t for the situation. you’re trembling slightly at first, your lips press together tightly, but a soft moan slips out. your hand flies to your mouth too late, and that’s what makes yunho turn, glancing at you with concern. 

“are you okay?” you’re not.

“y-yeah, i’m o-okay,” you manage to answer somehow, voice unsteady, but he’s already clicking the remote again, and it speeds up. your voice betrays you again, as wooyoung tilts his head, leaning in so only you can hear him. “sure about that, angel?”

you shoot him a look from the corner of your eye, but he only gives you that same cocky grin. 

yunho presses another button. the sensation spikes stronger this time, your eyes squeezing shut as you try to hold it in. it hits deeper now, the vibrations hit your core, your thighs press together, and you can feel how wet you are getting already.

“yunho,” your so-called ‘boyfriend’ says in that playful tone of his you grew up to despise, “maybe try the other button.”

your eyes snap open instantly. yunho hums, doing exactly that. you clamp your hand over your mouth when a little louder moan than before slips into the quiet room. he looks over again, brows pulling together, lips parting slightly.

“are you sure you’re okay?” he asks again, slower this time, but you nod too quickly.

“y-yeah, i–” another press and your answer turns into a breathy gasp, “ahh–”

yunho’s gaze flickers between the two of you. he turns it off, watching as your body relaxes, your shoulders dropping, then turns it on again, and you immediately jolt, squirming against the couch. oh, is that... he is curious now as he keeps pushing button after a button, and every instinct in your body is telling you to move, to stop this, maybe get up and grab that forsaken remote from his hand, only for wooyoung to hold you in place.

“shh, keep it down,” he murmurs near your ear. “wouldn’t want to make it obvious.”

“you–” you whisper, barely getting the word out, he watches the flutter of your eyelids, the minor tremors in your thighs. 

“should i stop?” yunho asks, and wooyoung answers before you can.

“hmm… i don’t think she wants you to.”

“i wan–” your hand flies back to your mouth once the vibrations hit you right at that spot.

“see? she’s not saying no.” wooyoung hums and your glare. why does he have to be so mean? give men a little power and watch them ruin beautiful things.

“tell me what you want,” the taller says, thumb hovering over the remote, attentive, but not stepping back. while the shorter is watching you struggle, enjoying every second. to be honest, he's always been a sadist, but when someone else is around, he just becomes absolutely insufferable. he never allowed anything like that, for someone else to interfere, not even permission is given to san.

“princess, if you don’t answer, he might just keep guessing.” and even through the tension and the overwhelming pressure building in your body, you still manage to be difficult.

“or,” you breathe out shakily, glaring up at your boyfriend, “you could both stop being annoying and figure it out yourselves.”

wooyoung blinks, then lets out a quiet laugh under his breath. “there she is, the brat in you has been hiding for so long now. i was wondering when it will come back.”

the first few minutes were a low setting here, a pulse there. you’d squirmed, biting your lip, trying to endure it and to show them that you, in fact, can handle it. then the vibration settled at a steady, mid-level grind. it’s enough to keep you perched on thin ice, pleasure coiling tight and hot in your belly but never releasing. you’re panting softly against your own palm, sweat dampening the back of your neck where wooyoung’s breath fans.

“look at her. she’s trying so hard to be quiet. she the prettiest angel, right yunho?”

yunho doesn’t answer immediately. he just turns the vibration off completely. the sudden absence creates crushing emptiness that feels worse than the stimulation. a whimper of pure loss breaks from your throat as your hips seek the pleasure that’s gone.

“oh, she doesn’t like that,” wooyoung coos, laughing softly. his hand slides down from your waist to splay possessively over your lower stomach, pressing down. “she wants it back, doesn’t she?”

“please,” you rasp, the word torn from you in a blissful whimper.

“please, what?” yunho becomes more precise and fully engaged, almost analytical. where did the sweet and kind golden boy disappear to? he stops asking, are you okay? and starts deciding what to do, probably influenced by the devil next to you. “use your words.”

“please… turn it back on.” you're so cute when you beg, that they just want to ruin you more.

“but you were getting too excited,” wooyoung chides, his fingers digging in slightly. “we can’t have you finishing without permission. that would be rude.”

yunho nods, as if considering this. he presses the button and it doesn’t return to the previous peaceful level. it comes back at the highest setting, followed by a violent, immediate buzz that feels less like pleasure and more like an electrical assault. you cry out, the sound strangled, your body seizing. it’s too much, an overwhelming flood that tips straight into overstimulation in a heartbeat when your vision whites out at the edges.

you’re screaming inside at the sensation, a relentless drilling into your pussy that offers no peace. your muscles are locked, shaking with the effort of containing it. you can feel the shameful slickness that has nothing to do with comfort and everything to do with helpless and brutalized arousal.

“so sensitive,” wooyoung bites your earlobe gently, holding you through, his embrace now less a restraint and more a comfort as you grip his forearm. “one little toy and you’re completely gone.”

yunho lets it run for what feels like an eternity. just when you think you might genuinely shatter into a million pieces under the onslaught, he drops it again. not to nothing, but back to that maddening and low speed. the drop is cruel as you sob. the makeup you spent so much time on is probably ruined, no matter how waterproof it is. slumping back against wooyoung, the low hum he lets feels like a taunt now, a reminder of what you can’t have.

“i think she’s learned her lesson,” he says, but his tone suggests the lesson is far from over. yunho walks over to the couch and crouches in front of you, the remote still in hand. he reaches out with his other hand, his fingers surprisingly gentle as they brush a tear from your cheek, you didn’t even know had fallen.

“you’re doing so well,” he says, his gaze holding yours, and you can’t even recognize him. “but you don’t get to come unless we say so, you understand?”

he doesn’t wait for an answer. he turns the remote over, shows you the tiny led light indicating it’s active, and the persistent, low-grade vibration continues. wooyoung kisses your cheek to keep you there with him, at least physically, as yunho rises, his shadow falling over you both.

you don’t know how long you have been denied an orgasm; you couldn't, there was no way, and you weren't allowed. those were their rules. it feels like you have been sitting on this couch forever without a second's rest. overwhelmed by the sensation coursing through your body, moaning softly, then whining as you trembled with need, turning to yunho with wide and pleading eyes, who is just observing you coldly like a predator.

“almost there, hm?” he whispers, his deep voice sending shivers and goosebumps on your half-naked body. considering the outfit you chose to wear, the cool air hits you like a tornado. the tension in the room thickens as you feel the pleasure and the denial, the toy pulsing against your every response to the pleas of your body. you are desperate, but the thrill of the chase is what they both seem to enjoy and bond over.

“too much? not enough? what is it, baby?” wooyoung mocks you with a playful question. you feel trapped between them, one holding you in place, the other controlling something you can’t. their voices overlap, layering over each other in a constant push and pull of teasing and coaxing, a taunting rhythm that makes it harder to think straight, let alone speak.

yunho, in all his life, never thought he’d enjoy something like this so much. you’re wooyoung’s — everyone wants you, but you only ever want one man. even so, a selfish thought slips in: he wishes he could take wooyoung’s place, be the one making you react like this and pushing your buttons, pulling you apart piece by piece.

lost in that thought, he doesn’t even realize how far he’s taken it, but the setting has shifted, turned it up to its limit. wooyoung’s sharp voice cuts through first, worried now, snapping him back. he blinks, startled, heart catching as he registers wooyoung’s tone over the sound of your broken breaths and desperate little sounds.

“yunho, turn it the fuck off, you psychopath.”

without hesitation, his thumb moves, dialing it down to something gentler. 

wooyoung is already there, hand threading into your hair, slowly soothing you, fingers combing through as his other hand brushes your cheek, soft despite the smirk still playing on his lips, enjoying this just as much as he’s pretending not to.

“it’s okay, breathe.” you’re still shaking slightly, but wooyoung glances at yunho with narrowed eyes, ones that could easily stop whatever is happening. “see what you did?”

“i didn’t think it would go that far,” yunho exhales, running a hand through his hair, and your man just laughs under his breath.

“sure you didn’t.” then, softer when he turns to speak to you, fingers continue to soothe through your locks, “i’m sorry, angel. but you see… even he can’t resist making a mess out of you.”

despite the toy being set on a lower intensity, you still feel it building, wooyoung does too with the way your legs press tighter together and your back arches slightly. he lets you, easing his hand out of your hair before sliding it beneath your skirt again, pressing the toy a little firmer, shifting it all around to give you what you’ve earned. with his other hand, he signals yunho with two fingers, silent but clear: give me the remote back. enough is enough, he wants you back with him now. 

“come on, baby. yeah… feels good now, no?” his voice softening into something almost sweet as your eyes fall shut. your breathing is uneven, but steadier now than it was minutes ago. yunho can only watch, while wooyoung handles you with care.

and then the sweet release crashes through you all at once. finally, after being denied for so long, your body trembles, a soft whimper escaping as overstimulation follows right after. you feel the slick warmth between your thighs and you don’t even care about making a mess on the couch. all you can think about is breathing again, your body going slack as you lean into wooyoung without thinking. 

that’s when the doorbell rings, snapping all three of you back to reality. for a second, yunho just stands there, the remote still in his hand, and your uneven breathing still echoing in his ears. this is not new — at least, not for you and wooyoung. things like this, blurred lines between private and almost public, have existed long before yunho ever got pulled into it. the rest of the group has no idea, and they’re not meant to; it’s not anyone else’s business.

even if wooyoung carries that careless, sharing is caring kind of attitude, it only goes so far. perfumes and scents, those things he’ll scoff at, roll his eyes over, let slide without much thought. you, though? you’re not something he shares lightly. and yunho can understand it now, because he just stepped into territory that was never his to begin with.

“take her to the bathroom,” he says, clearing his throat as he hands the remote back by turning it off, nodding toward the hallway. “i’ll handle it.”

wooyoung nods once, already shifting his focus entirely to you, guiding you up with a hand at your waist as yunho heads toward the door. and just like that, the scene resets. the rest of the guys arrive, the apartment is filled with laughs and loud music, everything looks normal again. but at some point, someone notices the couch. 

“uh… why is there a stain?”

wooyoung doesn’t even hesitate to answer, you in his lap. “sorry, i spilled some juice. don’t worry, it’ll dry.” yeah, juice… your juice.

the party starts all drinking and having fun to celebrate their friend. however, yunho isn’t thinking about the guests or about his achievement in the virtual and social world… he thinks of how much he can achieve by making you cum on his cock instead of the cushions earlier without the usage of some stupid toy. of course, only if wooyoung lets him… tho doubts he would mind, you are not officially together after all.

© KISSSAN do not copy, repost or modify my work.

so, hello this is my shortest smut fic yet, and i just wanted to experiment with the formatting and the storytelling ! please, keep in mind that this was my first time writing anything focused on the usage of toys and i know it may be bad and not perfect, since i'm not familiar with this type of nsfw content, but i hope you enjoyed <33

Yunho's fingers drift from your shoulder to the side of your neck, brushing lightly, then lower along your collarbone. "You look so pretty tonight," he murmurs, voice low and teasing. His blond fringe falls forward as he leans in closer, pretending to point something out on the field. Under the blanket, his other hand slides up your thigh, warm and heavy, squeezing gently.

Wooyoung chuckles softly on your right, mirroring the movement. His hand creeps higher up your inner thigh, fingertips dancing just under the hem of your shorts. Your breath catches and of course they notice immediately. They look at each other knowingly before Wooyoung leans in.

“Tell me baby,” Wooyoung whispers against your ear, voice low and teasing. “You’ve been squirming between us since we sat down… You want our hands on you right here, don’t you?”

You don’t answer - you can’t, not with people a few rows away - but your silence and the way your thighs press together say everything.

Heat floods your face as Wooyoung’s fingers brush teasingly against your clothed heat, confirming exactly what he suspected.

“Fuck, she's soaked.” He looks at Yunho who is grinning wickedly already. “Ok baby, let's play… but you have to be quiet, okay?”

Your heart races. You try to keep your face neutral, eyes fixed on the players below, but you can't help but gasp softly when Yunho’s long fingers slip under the blanket and between your legs from the left.

He doesn’t rush, tracing the seam of your shorts first, then pushing the fabric aside, gliding two thick fingers along your folds over your panties. The slow, teasing pressure makes your hips twitch.

“Shhh,” Yunho warns gently, his deep voice vibrating close to your ear. “Remember… not a sound. There are still people a few rows down.”

Wooyoung’s fingers join seconds later from the right. He tugs your panties to the side with practiced ease, and now both of them have access. Yunho focuses on your clit, slow deliberate circles with his fingertips, spreading your growing wetness.

Wooyoung teases your entrance, dipping just the tip of one finger inside before pulling back, then two, stretching you open lazily while the game cheers mask any tiny sounds.

You’re completely trapped between their bodies, Yunho’s tall frame on one side, solid and warm, his free hand now resting possessively on your other thigh to keep your legs parted; Wooyoung pressed tight on the right, his shoulder brushing yours, glasses slipping down as he concentrates on the way his fingers curl inside you.

Their rhythm builds gradually: Yunho rubbing tighter, faster circles on your swollen clit while Wooyoung pumps two fingers deeper, scissoring gently, finding that spot that makes your toes curl.

They work together like they share one filthy mind. Every time Yunho presses firmer on your clit, Wooyoung thrusts deeper and curls harder.

When your hips twitch, their free hands press firmly on your outer thighs under the blanket, holding you open and trapped between their warm, solid bodies. The roaring crowd and stadium lights make it dangerously easy… no one would ever guess what’s happening underneath.

Your breathing turns shallow. You bite your lip hard, gripping the edge of the bench. A soft whimper escapes before you can stop it.

Wooyoung’s hand stills for a second.

“Careful,” he whispers, voice dripping with amusement. “Someone’s gonna notice if you keep making those pretty noises.” But he doesn’t stop. He adds a third finger, stretching you fuller, thrusting slow and deep while Yunho’s fingers press firmer on your clit, rubbing in perfect sync.

Yunho leans in even closer, hair brushing your cheek, lips ghosting your temple. “You’re soaking our hands already. So good for us, staying quiet like this.” His fingers speed up just a little, the slick sounds thankfully hidden by the roaring crowd.

Wooyoung curls his fingers again and again against that sensitive spot, his thumb occasionally brushing Yunho’s on your clit, the dual stimulation driving you insane.

Your thighs start trembling uncontrollably. Sweat beads on your skin. Every muscle is tight as you fight to keep still… no moaning, no obvious moving, just the overwhelming feeling of both their skilled hands working you.

“You’re close, aren’t you?” Yunho murmurs, voice husky. “I can feel you clenching around Woo’s fingers. Come for us, baby. Right here. Just don’t let them hear.”

The orgasm hits you like a wave.

You bury your face in Yunho’s red jersey, muffling your broken, shaking moan against his chest as your whole body convulses violently between them, thighs clamping around their hands as pleasure crashes through you.

They don’t stop. Yunho keeps those tight circles going through every pulse, Wooyoung curls his fingers deep and holds them there, milking every last tremor until you’re a trembling, oversensitive mess.

Only when the aftershocks fade do they slowly withdraw their hands. Yunho casually brings his fingers to his mouth, licking them clean while locking eyes with you, a wicked smirk on his lips.

Wooyoung adjusts your shorts and panties back into place with gentle fingers, then makes a peace sign toward the field like nothing happened, glasses still slightly fogged.