chocoryo

[chocoryo]

𝗪𝗜𝗦𝗛 ◦ LAZY MORNINGS.ᐟ ⋄ ﹙ 枯 ﹚

꒰ ㌛ ꒱ how do they act in lazy mornings with you?

꒰ ぉ ꒱ bf!wish && fem!reader content fluff. yushi's part can be slightly suggestive at the end. so much love i wanna die. ⋄ 3.5k words

꒰ 'ㅅ' ꒱ i thought of adding sakuryo in fluff headcanons, but something doesn't seem right for me... (we're just 1 year apart, but i feel like a sinner) so i'll just wait for them to turn 18 and i add them to fluff guys. i don't really like or write platonic fics and a romantic relationship seems... weird idk 😭😭

SION

mornings with sion are never rushed. they bloom slowly, like petals unfolding in warm sunlight—quiet, lazy, and filled with love. he refuses to open his eyes the moment the alarm chimes. refuses to let go of your warmth. instead, he pulls you closer, buries his face in the crook of your neck, and breathes you in like you’re his first breath of the day.

before anything else—before brushing teeth or checking phones or even stretching—he needs you. needs to kiss you, whisper to you, talk about everything and nothing. the day doesn’t start until he’s had a moment wrapped in you.

the golden morning light begins to pour gently through the curtains, soft and warm against the sheets. you stir sleepily, shifting under the covers, your face instinctively nuzzling into the familiar chest rising and falling beside you.

your eyes flutter open, slowly adjusting to the light. before you can even greet the day properly, you feel it—a tender kiss, feather-light, pressed against the crown of your head.

“good morning, love,” sion murmurs, his voice still gravelly from sleep. it rumbles in his chest beneath your cheek, and it makes something inside you melt.

“good morning, babe,” you reply, lifting your head just enough to rest your chin on his chest, your gaze drifting to him.

his hair is a soft mess, sleep-tousled and impossibly endearing. his eyes remain closed, but there’s a lazy little smile curling at the corners of his lips—the kind of smile that says he’s perfectly content, just like this.

you lean up and press a small kiss to his chin, earning a subtle but visible twitch of his smile growing wider.

“did you sleep well?” you ask gently, fingers slipping beneath the hem of his shirt, your hand seeking out the warm skin of his side.

he shivers slightly under your touch, leaning into it, like your fingers alone are enough to anchor him to the world. “i always sleep well when i’m with you,” he murmurs, voice barely above a whisper.

you giggle and pinch his side lightly. “don’t be cheesy.”

“i’m not,” he insists with a sleepy grin. “i’m just being honest. how could i possibly sleep badly when i’ve got the softest, warmest, smartest, most beautiful girl in the world holding me like i’m her favorite thing?”

your laugh bubbles up, light and bright, but his words—even if exaggerated—sink deep into your heart. because that’s what sion does. he says things that make your chest ache in the softest ways.

with a quiet groan of effort, he shifts, gently rolling you onto your back so he can rest above you, arms caging you in without pressure. he leans down and starts kissing you—over and over—like he’s got nowhere else to be and all the time in the world to show you how much he loves you.

your cheeks. your lips. your nose. your forehead. your neck. every inch of you receives the kind of affection that makes you feel cherished down to your bones.

you laugh between kisses, and that sound alone makes sion smile against your skin. he could live off the sound of your laughter. if it were a song, he’d play it on repeat for the rest of his life.

“what’s my pretty girl doing today?” he asks, voice muffled as he tucks his face into your neck again, your fingers tracing lazy circles across his back.

“after having breakfast with my amazing boyfriend?” you tease, and he hums in response, the vibration tickling your skin. “probably finishing that boring college project… then i’m meeting my mom.”

he lifts his head slightly, blinking at you with playful offense. “and then you’ll come home to your amazing boyfriend’s arms, right?”

you stretch your arms above your head with a yawn, grinning. “actually, then i’ll meet my friends. after that, i’ll come back home to my amazing boyfriend’s arms.”

he flops back down onto your chest, groaning dramatically. “ugh. then i’ll be here. abandoned. lonely. rotting away in despair. thinking of you and all the time we could’ve spent tangled in each other.”

you burst into laughter, fingers brushing through his messy hair. “you could hang out with the boys, you know.”

he makes a discontented noise. “they’re my last resort.”

“you love them.”

“maybe,” he mumbles, nuzzling back into you like he’d rather be anywhere but away from you.

the conversation fades into silence again, the comfortable kind. the kind that wraps around you both like a second blanket. your bodies stay tangled under the covers, lips meeting over and over, skin brushing against skin in the gentlest of ways.

his lips keep trailing kisses along your face and neck like he can’t help himself, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he stops. and honestly, you wouldn’t mind staying like this forever.

“we really need to get up…” you murmur against his lips between kisses, breath hitching slightly.

but sion only shakes his head, already capturing your mouth in another kiss.

“five more minutes,” he whispers, voice soft, pleading, and full of sleepy love.

and just like that, you’re pulled right back into his arms. because with sion, five more minutes always turns into ten. then twenty. then a morning that stretches out beautifully—slow, warm, and full of love.

RIKU

mornings with riku are always a slow burn. the sun might rise, alarms might blare, but riku? he stays wrapped in blankets, deep in dreams, snoozing one alarm after the next. you’ve lost count how many times he’s tapped his phone without opening his eyes. and even though he gets a little grumpy when you try to wake him, all of that melts away the moment he realizes it’s you.

your voice. your touch. your kisses. that’s all it takes for his sleepy heart to soften, for the whines to begin, and for the clinging to start. because for riku, no morning truly begins without your arms wrapped around him and your lips pressed against his skin.

he’s lucky there’s nothing urgent today—no classes, no calls, no plans—just a soft saturday morning and the two of you tangled in warmth.

you’d been trying to wake your sleepyhead up for nearly ten minutes. five alarms, maybe more, all silenced with a lazy swipe of his hand. and each time, he rolled away, burying himself deeper under the covers like a stubborn cat. at one point, he even turned his back to you entirely, pretending to snore louder.

but you’re persistent. you always are when it comes to riku.

“riku…” you call out gently, fingers trailing up and down his back. you lean in and press a kiss to the curve of his neck, then another to his cheek, letting your lips linger just a little longer than necessary.

you nudge his hair aside with your nose, your breath warm against his skin, voice barely above a whisper as you begin listing all the lovely things you could do together on a slow, beautiful morning like this—even if it is already past eleven.

he stirs a little, shifting with a soft sigh as he finally flops onto his back, one arm flopping across his eyes. he blinks one eye open, clearly prepared to grumble, but as soon as he sees you leaning over him, all that resistance dissolves into a sleepy smile.

“baby~” he murmurs, voice drowsy and sweet, like honey on toast.

“finally!” you laugh softly, flopping beside him. “i thought you’d slipped into a coma.”

without another word, riku reaches for you, arms pulling you against his chest like you’re a lifeline. he buries his face in your shirt, warm breath fanning across your skin, and lets out a sigh that feels like the entire world just fell away.

he doesn’t speak—just holds you. one hand traces slow, lazy shapes across your back, the other anchoring you close. it feels like he’s trying to soak in every inch of you through sheer contact, like if he could melt into you, he would.

“baby,” you murmur with a soft giggle, kissing the top of his head, “we really need to get up.”

“but it’s saturday,” he whines, voice muffled into your chest.

“and it’s eleven already,” you tease, threading your fingers through his soft, sleep-tousled hair. your nails gently scratch his scalp, and the way he shudders lets you know he loves it—which, of course, makes him complain more.

“don’t do that… i’ll fall back asleep.” he whines again, tighter this time, like a child resisting the end of a dream. “we can spend time together asleep too…”

“maeda riku.” you chuckle, gently cradling his face in your hands. he’s pouty, cheeks warm, lips slightly parted, and those big brown eyes blink up at you with all the affection in the world.

“we’re getting up, having breakfast, and spending time awake, together. got it?” you press a quick kiss to the tip of his nose.

he lets out the most dramatic sigh, like you’ve just asked him to move mountains. “but i was so comfy…”

“if you get up right now,” you say, leaning close, “i’ll spend the whole day drowning you in kisses.”

his eyes snap open, fully alert now, curiosity lighting up his face. “the whole day?”

you nod, lips twitching into a grin.

“anywhere?” he asks, already grinning back, that playful sparkle returning to his eyes.

you nod again, slower this time, just to tease him.

that’s all it takes. he throws the covers off with a dramatic flair, rolls to the edge of the bed and stumbles to his feet, hair sticking out in every direction, still half-asleep but clearly determined.

“c’mon baby!” he beams, stretching his arms wide. “let’s do something fun!”

you giggle into your hand, heart swelling with love for this boy who turns from grumpy to giddy with just a promise of kisses. his smile is still drowsy around the edges, but it’s yours. completely and fully yours.

and just like that, the day begins—with messy hair, sleepy laughs, and a whole lot of love.

YUSHI

mornings with yushi are always soaked in quiet adoration. he usually wakes first—not because he has to, but because he loves to. it’s his favorite part of the day, those few precious minutes where the world is still, and you’re right there, peaceful and warm, breathing softly beside him.

he treasures this. the privilege of watching you so gently wrapped in sleep. he memorizes you like this, every morning, like he’s seeing you for the first time. he looks for the tiniest details, the ones he could have missed, the ones only he gets to see—the way your lips part just slightly, the subtle twitch of your fingers, the way your eyebrows furrow when your dreams start to turn. every sleepy habit of yours, he’s fallen for, completely. even the ones you might find silly or embarrassing—to him, they’re the loveliest things.

what could ever compare to the mornings when you wake by his side? when he gets to be the very first person to see you, to hear your soft, raspy “good morning” that almost sounds like a secret, or when you lazily nuzzle into his chest, mumbling for five more minutes before drifting right back into that peaceful slumber. those moments, yushi keeps them tucked in his heart like treasures.

his eyes flutter open, blinking slowly against the morning light that filters through the thin curtains, soft and pale.

he turns his head to the right, squinting at the white glowing numbers on the clock—still too early, thank god. so he shifts, rolling to his left instead, and there you are. his girl, his comfort, his favorite sight to wake up to.

a small, quiet smile curls his lips as he tucks one arm beneath his head, sinking into the pillow as his gaze drifts over you.

his eyes trace the gentle rise and fall of your breathing, the delicate curve of your shoulder peeking out from the blanket, the tiny, involuntary smile tugging at your lips. your eyelashes flutter like you’re dreaming something exciting, and in your sleep, you instinctively scoot closer, seeking his warmth, tucking yourself right into his space like you belong there. like you always have.

and to yushi, you do.

he looks at you like you’re the most precious thing in the world—like nothing else matters. his love for you sits in his chest, steady and deep and undoubted.

his hand moves slowly, carefully, as he brushes away the strands of hair that have fallen across your face, tucking them behind your ear with a tenderness that could only come from loving someone this much.

you stir, slowly waking, your lashes fluttering open to find him already watching you with that same soft, sleepy smile.

“good morning…” your voice is just a whisper, thick with sleep as you drape your arm lazily around his waist.

his arms pull you close in response, wrapping you up like he could keep you there forever. you rest your head against his chest, hearing the steady rhythm of his heart as he presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“good morning, heart.”

you sigh, melting into him. “what do we have today?”

“besides my shift in a few hours?” he murmurs, nudging your head with his chin. “nothing. you, miss sleepy, have the day off, remember?”

you lift your head just a little, eyes still half-closed but sparkling with quiet excitement. your lips pull into a slow, lazy smile that makes yushi’s heart soften even more.

“then you should keep your pretty girlfriend some company, huh? would you dare leave me alone on a morning like this?” you tighten your grip around him dramatically. “it’s freezing without you… or worse… i’ll miss you so much i might just die.”

he laughs, his chest vibrating under your cheek, and it’s the sweetest sound. “you’re so dramatic in the morning.”

he clutches you tighter, gently rocking you until he rolls over, hovering above you, trapping you beneath him. he lowers his head, pressing soft, lingering kisses all over your face—your cheeks, your forehead, your nose, everywhere.

“i’ll try to finish early, hm?” he pecks the tip of your nose. “then we can go on a little date. sound good?” he kisses your cheeks. “or we can just stay in…” a kiss to your chin, your forehead, the corner of your lips, teasing you. “kissing… loving you…”

and then finally, his lips find yours, warm and slow and full of sleepy affection.

your arms loop around his neck, fingers slipping into his hair, caressing the nape of his neck as you pull him impossibly closer. his hands rest on your waist, firm but gentle, his thumbs rubbing slow circles against your skin as you melt into the kiss.

you pull back just enough to whisper, lips brushing his, “i think i like the last one better.”

yushi’s smile is soft, almost shy, before he leans in again, kissing you deeply, like he’s making a promise without saying a word.

he knows he should get up soon, knows he might be late for work if he stays in bed with you any longer, but none of that seems to matter right now.

because this—you, here, in his arms, loving him so sweetly—is always worth the time. always.

JAEHEE

mornings with daeyoung feel like something out of a quiet, tender romance movie—the kind that wraps around your heart and makes you want to live inside it forever. he always wakes up earlier, not because he has to, but because he wants to. he loves starting his day by making you breakfast, just to bring it to you in bed, to watch your sleepy smile bloom when you see him, to steal those quiet moments where the world feels like it’s only the two of you.

you would spend those slow mornings wrapped in each other’s arms, soft conversations melting into sleepy giggles, holding onto every second before life pulls you both away to your own responsibilities.

daeyoung adores waking up with you. he loves the weight of your body pressed against his, the steady rhythm of your breathing, the warmth that seeps into his skin from being so close to you. there’s something sacred about opening his eyes and seeing you there, like you were made to be by his side. he doesn’t know how to live without this anymore. it’s you. it’s always you. he needs you there, every morning, every day.

when daeyoung’s eyes flutter open, the first thing he sees is your back facing him. a slow, fond smile tugs at his lips, and his arm instinctively tightens around your waist, pulling you closer as he leans in to breathe you in—your sweet scent, familiar and comforting.

he could stay like this. god, he wants to. but he knows you—you always seem to wake a few minutes after him, maybe because you miss his warmth when he’s gone. and he knows you love being greeted with breakfast, especially the kind he makes just for you.

so he presses a soft, lingering kiss to your bare shoulder before carefully unwrapping his arm from around you, moving slowly, reluctant to leave your side.

he tiptoes to the bathroom, brushing his teeth, splashing cool water on his face, moving quietly through the house to keep your peaceful sleep undisturbed.

he knows your moods well. some mornings you can eat a whole meal, needing the energy for your busy days. but on softer mornings like this, when your schedule is light and the world is quiet, you’re content with something simple—just a little fruit, a bit of yoghurt, your favourite juice. nothing too heavy. just enough.

so daeyoung prepares exactly that—carefully picking out your favourite fruits, chopping them into perfect little bites, arranging them in a bowl like it’s art just for you. he pours your favorite juice, sets out a small bowl of yoghurt, and prepares the same for himself, though truthfully, he doesn’t care much about what he eats—he’d happily trade his meal for five more minutes wrapped up in you.

when he returns to the room, balancing the breakfast tray in his hands, he’s just about to set it down and gently wake you—but your voice, soft and sweet, cuts through the morning hush.

“good morning, my love.”

you’re sitting up, your hair a tousled mess, your voice still thick with sleep, your smile lazy and beautiful, like sunlight slowly peeking over the horizon.

for daeyoung, this is you at your most beautiful—the real you. no pretenses, no careful details, just soft skin marked by the sheets, puffy eyes still adjusting to the day, messy hair he wants to bury his hands in. you, just you, and that’s all he’ll ever want.

“awesome morning, princess,” he grins, setting the tray in front of you on the bed.

he leans down to kiss you, soft and lingering, like a quiet promise, before gently pointing to everything he’s made for you, explaining each little thing like it’s his love letter to you in the form of breakfast.

as he sips his juice, a small, hesitant question slips from his lips. “do you really need to go home?” there’s a trace of sadness in his voice, so faint, but it’s there.

you smile, sweet and playful, feeding him a piece of the perfectly cut fruit. “hmm, i don’t know…” you tease, your voice laced with affection. “do you have a good reason for me to stay, mr. kim?”

he taps his chin, pretending to think, lips curling into a soft pout.

“you can spend the whole day at your awesome, ridiculously handsome boyfriend’s house while he drowns you in kisses, cuddles, movies, good meals and… did i mention kisses?” he beams, kissing your hand like you’re royalty.

you giggle, heart swelling, leaning in as you whisper, “i think those are all very good reasons.” and you press your lips to his.

he hums into the kiss, pulling you closer, his hand cradling the nape of your neck, deepening it like he’s trying to pour all his love into you in that single moment.

if it were up to him, he would spend every morning like this. every day. forever.

because there’s no place he’d rather be than here, waking up next to you, loving you, over and over again.

[chocoryo]

𝗥𝗜𝗞𝗨 ◦ WEIGHT OF LIFE.ᐟ ⋄ ﹙ 枯 ﹚

꒰ ㌛ ꒱ you're afraid of disappointing your daughter as a mother, but riku is right by your side to comfort you, support you, and most importantly, to remind you the amazing woman you are.

꒰ ぉ ꒱ maeda riku && fem!reader content angst and a bit of fluff, riku and you have a baby girl, insecurities, mentions of past trauma, very self indulgent, riku loves you so much! ⋄ 1.2k words

꒰ 'ㅅ' ꒱ this one was born out of a midnight thought... as i said before, this one is veeery self indulgent, my biggest fear fr

you look down at the baby curled against your chest, her tiny body warm and trusting in your arms, and wonder—how did i get here?

you never wanted this. not a child. not the fear of becoming a mother.

so why?

it’s two in the morning. again. sleep feels like a myth from another life. your daughter keeps waking—hour by hour—crying for comfort, for food, or simply to be held, to be wrapped in your scent and skin, needing the only thing that feels familiar in this vast new world: you.

riku knows this, and that’s why he tries so hard. he bathes her, changes her, holds her to his chest for hours on end so she can hear the steady beat of his heart, but there are times even he can’t soothe her. times when all she wants is you.

because she grew inside you. because your body was her entire world. and now she needs it again. and it’s not fair. not to her. not to you. and still—you know it. you know that you are her comfort.

but you can’t help how you feel.

she’s only nine weeks old. nine weeks that feel like a lifetime stretched across an aching back, sore breasts, and sleep-deprived eyes. she latches on now, suckling hungrily at your breast while you drink more water, trying to keep up, trying not to feel so empty.

you watch her—this living, breathing embodiment of your love for riku—and you feel something bloom in your chest. it’s warm. it’s love. real love.

the way she settles when she hears your heartbeat. the way her tiny fingers stretch out, desperate to touch you even in her sleep.

it’s beautiful.

and it’s terrifying.

your body is not your own anymore. your mind—foggy, strained—doesn’t stop racing. you hear her cries even when she’s silent. they live under your skin. you’re always alert. you haven’t bathed in peace in weeks, and when you finally do, you cry like a dam breaking.

you don’t recognize yourself. this—this broken, fraying version of you—was not who you thought you’d be.

if only i had been more responsible. but you were on the pill. you were careful. you never chose this.

maybe the universe did. maybe it wanted to test your limits.

riku sees you. even when you don’t say a word. you’re staring blankly at the sheets, your arms barely holding her upright, eyes glassy and far away.

he sighs, quietly, guilt tugging at the corners of his heart.

he knows your dreams. your fears. the promises you made to yourself long before you met him. he also knows he was the one who gave you what you never wanted.

when he gently touches your arm, it’s soft, grounding. you blink back into reality. he takes her from you with care, cradling her to his chest, and once she’s asleep again, he lays her in the crib.

then, he turns to you.

he gets into bed, pulls you into his arms, and the moment your cheek rests against his chest, the tears start. quiet at first—just trembling shoulders—but soon, full sobs that steal your breath.

he holds you tighter, kissing the top of your head over and over. “i’m sorry,” he whispers like a mantra. “i’m so, so sorry.”

“i didn’t want to feel like this,” you choke out. “but i just can’t… i didn’t want to regret having her.”

your fingers fist into his shirt, desperate.

“please don’t say that,” he murmurs, his voice cracking just slightly. “just… don’t.”

“i’m sore. i’m exhausted. That’s all i didn’t want to feel. and you—” you pull back, just enough to see his face through your wet lashes. “you’re perfect. you’re everything she deserves. but me…”

and the worst part is—it’s true. riku had always dreamed of this. a family. the moment he knew he loved you, he imagined it. marriage. children. a quiet, happy life. but when he learned that you didn’t want the same, he didn’t run. he stayed. he adjusted.

but still—he sparkled when he was around his nieces and nephews. you always noticed.

you knew he wondered if he’d ever have that with you.

and you lived with that guilt. every single day. waiting for him to realize he deserved someone else. someone who wanted the same dreams. but he never left.

riku stayed. for every moment. every dark night. every heavy breath.

and when you found out you were pregnant, you thought about it long and hard. you tried to feel ready. but all you could think of was your own childhood. your mother’s sharp voice. her endless dissatisfaction. her revolving door of men. her hands. her absence.

you were scared you’d become her. even if you didn’t mean to.

riku knew that too.

he gently cups your cheek, wipes a tear away with his thumb. “you’re the mother she deserves too,” he says, so sure, so steady. “i know you didn’t plan for this. but baby… i saw it. every time kids ran through my mom’s garden, you ended up playing with them. you’d light up in baby stores even when we weren’t shopping. and your smile when you saw a baby? it was real.”

you drop your forehead to his chest, breath shaking. and memories come flooding back—your mother’s cold words despite your achievements, the shouting, the nights she ignored you like you didn’t exist.

“i’m scared,” you whisper.

“i know,” riku replies, rubbing your back. “but you’re not her. you couldn’t be. you love our daughter already. you whispered to her at night, remember? when you thought i couldn’t hear.”

you bite your lip out of embarrassment. “that’s… so embarrassing.”

he laughs gently. “that’s beautiful.”

“how can you be so sure?”

“because i know you,” he says. “you’re the most loving, gentle person i’ve ever met. and whenever that fear creeps in, come to me. i’ll remind you how amazing you are. you’re not doing this alone.”

your sobs soften, replaced by the slow rhythm of his breathing. you let his words sink in, his love wrapping around your heart like a blanket.

he’s right. he’s always been right. you have him. you always did.

and you can love your daughter. just like she loves you.

exhaustion, soreness—none of it outweighs that.

riku leans back, cups your face again, and kisses your forehead. “you’re already the best mother in the world,” he says. “because you see your flaws and you want to do better. that’s what makes you strong. that’s why i’m proud to be yours. and she will be too.”

a few tears slip from his eyes as he presses a soft kiss to your lips. salty, tender, honest.

“thank you,” he whispers, “for giving us her.”

“i love you,” you breathe against his lips, voice still raw.

“i love you more,” he replies, smiling against your sadness.

and in that moment, you decide:

you will try. for her. for him.

you want her to love you, to trust you, to be proud of you.

and you promise—you will.

[chocoryo]

𝗦𝗜𝗢𝗡 ◦ PASSENGER PRINCESS.ᐟ ⋄ ﹙ 枯 ﹚

꒰ ㌛ ꒱ sion can't wait until you're home to have a taste of you...

꒰ ぉ ꒱ dom!sion && fem!reader content smut. car sex. dangerous driving. fingering. cunnilingus. panty sniffing (?). mentions of breeding and begging ⋄ 1.5k words

꒰ 'ㅅ' ꒱ i've been so obsessed over nct wish, you can't even imagine damn- well since i created a whole blog for them, i think you can lol

the night was cool, the streets quiet, the faint hum of the engine weaving with the soft, almost distant melody from the radio. occasionally, your voice would slip into a gentle hum when a familiar song played, filling the space with something tender, something that felt like home.

you and sion were on your way home after spending the day with his parents—a visit they requested, claiming they missed their son and, so sweetly, their future daughter-in-law.

you didn’t even know about it until two days ago when your boyfriend casually asked if you had any plans for the weekend. you didn’t. and that’s when he told you his.

you said yes, of course, but there had been a small ache of frustration.

you didn’t like when he made decisions for the both of you, forgetting to check in first. he knew that. but he’d forgotten this time—or maybe he just assumed, since his parents adored you, and the feeling was mutual.

your fingers now rested at the nape of his neck, trailing soft circles over his skin, while sion’s hand sat warm and steady on your thigh. the silence was the kind you sink into. comfortable. quiet enough that your mind wandered to your work, the things waiting for you tomorrow.

but sion’s thoughts weren’t so polite.

he couldn’t stop thinking about the way you had been today—so sweet, so comfortable in his childhood home, talking with his mother about his old habits, laughing with his father like you had always been a part of the family. you moved through their house like it was your own, like you belonged there. and in his eyes—you already did.

he tried to focus on the fun day meeting with his parents, on anything else but you. but he kept remembering what happened before you both walked out the door this morning.

he remembered the way he had you trembling beneath him, how you could barely catch your breath, how you clung to him, how he had filled you, again and again, until you were left gasping, weak, and so beautifully satisfied.

he knew you still carried the weight of that memory on your skin, the ache of it between your legs. having his cum pooling on your panties.

he spent the entire day pretending to be unaffected, while his mind kept replaying the memory of you arching beneath him, the sounds you made, the way you whispered his name like it belonged to you.

the moment you both got into the car, the fragile wall he’d built began to crack.

his touch on your thigh, once absentminded, grew more deliberate. his thumb dragged in slow circles, each pass dipping a little higher, a little closer, until his fingers brushed along the edge of your dress, teasing the soft skin underneath.

"sion?" you murmured, your voice low, careful—a warning wrapped in affection.

he didn’t look at you, but the corner of his lips tugged upward in a subtle smirk, as if to say he heard you, but wasn’t planning to stop.

his fingers skimmed a little higher, and you caught his hand, settling your palm over his, stilling him.

“oh sion.”

“yes, baby?” his tone came out amused and then you realized he was doing it on purpose.

“what are you doing?” your question came out soft, like you were playing along.

"been thinking about you, that’s all,” he said, his voice quiet, almost lazy. “you looked so beautiful today… talking to my mom, sharing recipes like you’ve always been part of our family. like you were ready to give them grandchildren to play with.”

your chest fluttered. you’d talked about the future before. about what you both wanted. about family. but hearing it now—like it was already a given—made your breath catch.

but he was only pushing your buttons.

“i wonder what they would think if they knew their cute and innocent daughter had been filled to the brim with my cum and still wanted more. if they knew you had my fucking cum leaking out of that pretty and greedy little cunt dampening these cute panties.”

your breath caught, and your grip on his hand loosened just enough for him to resume his touch.

sion knew everything about you. he’s a devoted lover, he loves learning about you. small things like how you like your coffee, or how you start doing the dishes by the glasses, or how you pick on your cuticle when you’re beyond stressed.

he also knew that you could only sleep on the wall side because you move too much while sleeping, so he just rearranged your whole bedroom when you first move in to make it how you like it.

he made the world around you feel like it was always made for two.

and this also implied he knew exactly how to make you aching for him. with words and actions.

he knew exactly what kind of words you liked to hear and how to touch you until you’re begging and whining.

“sion…” you whispered his name, soft and fragile, the first crack in your composure he’d been waiting for.

he bit his lip, his gaze fixed on the road. “i wonder what they’d think if they knew,” he whispered, his fingers stroking slow, lazy paths along your thigh. “if they knew how sweet you sound when you’re begging for my cock. if they knew you’d do anything—anything—to have me again.”

your legs pressed together, trying to ease the slow, delicious ache building inside you.

“take these off for me, baby,” he murmured, soft and sure.

his fingers drifted higher, brushing against the damp fabric between your legs, and he hummed as if he’d expected nothing less.

you slid your panties down your legs. the moment the fabric lost contact with your core, you could see the white mess on it and how a string of arousal—or sion’s cum—refused to break, stretching as long as it could.

he stretched out his hand for you and you put the tiny piece of clothes on his palm.

sion immediately brought it to his nose, smelling your addictive scent, sticking his tongue out to taste your sweet arousal and fuck— god knows how much he wanted to eat you out until you were crying just right now.

your boyfriend swallowed thickly, reminiscing about your taste. and that seems to wake up something in him.

“spread your legs.” his voice was like gravity, pulling you under.

you obeyed, heat blooming across your skin as his hand slipped between your thighs, his fingers sinking into you, slow and deep, savoring how ready you already were for him.

you whimpered, the sound catching in your throat as your hand grasped the seat beneath you.

he curled his fingers just right, and you gasped, hips shifting toward him as if your body had its own mind.

you were burning hot, needing your boyfriend and every single thing he had to give you.

at a red light, he leaned over, catching you off guard.

his lips found you—hot, hungry, desperate. his tongue drew slow, deliberate circles, his fingers never stopping, pumping even harder, never giving you a moment to steady yourself.

your hands flew to his hair, gripping tightly as his tongue worked over your clit, his fingers still buried inside you, moving in perfect tandem. his breath was heavy, the wet sounds between you filling the car as you writhed under his touch, your soft gasps giving way to quiet moans of his name.

you were clumsily riding your boyfriend’s face and, for a moment, you forgot the world around you. basking in how he was making you feel and how good you tasted on his tongue.

the sharp blare of a car horn jolted you both. the light had turned green.

sion was panting, hesitating before pulling back from you. he could swear he was starting to feel the wet spot where his tip was wetting his denim because of how much he was leaking.

reluctantly, sion pulled back, face flushed, lips glistening, his chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. his cock was hard and aching, throbbing under the restraints of his jeans.

sion needed you right at that moment.

he wiped his mouth with your panties, then tossed them onto the console, shifting the car back into gear.

"almost home, baby. think you can hold on for me a little longer?”

you nodded, weakly.

he glanced at you, a crooked smile tugging at his lips. “good. because the second we step inside, i’m not letting you go. i’m gonna fuck you until you can’t remember your own name.”

you leaned your head back against the seat, your breath shaky, your pulse racing, your body already craving the promise behind his words.

your legs pressed together, your skin burning, your thoughts clouded with only him—sion, his touch, his voice, the delicious ache of wanting more.

and all you wanted was to be his. over and over again.