When you settle fully onto his lap, Wonwoo’s grip tightens just a little—protective, grounding. The game fades into the background as he tilts his head, gaze dropping to where your collarbone peeks out.

Without a word, he leans in and presses a soft kiss there. Then another. Slow. Unhurried. Like he’s memorizing the feel of you.

His lips linger, barely there, warm against your skin before he rests his forehead against your shoulder.

“You always do this,” he murmurs quietly, voice low and fond. “Come sit like you belong here.”

One hand resumes the controller, the other stays firm at your waist, thumb brushing gently along your side.

“Stay,” Wonwoo adds under his breath. “I’m good like this.”