MEL

22 𝜗ৎ you're my dahlia, tulips and daisies

[meltoning]

자각몽 ; lucid dream (n.) ― a dream in which the person who is dreaming is asleep but aware that they are dreaming

NSFW BLOG ✦ MDNI I can't stop love ; why am I so attached to you?

©meltoning

[meltoning]

with recent events i just wanted to come out to say i don't think i'll be writing for eunseok anymore. i can't see myself supporting and writing for someone like that, so feel free to unfollow me if you expect eunseok fics in the future

[meltoning]

the new aespa teasers are so tea

[jenseuls]

[brachiodilatte]

his hair, his face, his clothes, his attitude. he had never looked so princely

[01zfan]

see you around pt. 4

swim captain!anton x reader | 22k words

oh my gawd. i want to first and foremost APOLOGIZE for all the lies about posting this. i thought it would be done, but i just kept adding more and more LMFAO. i really wanted it this to be a very thoughtful conclusion to the see you around universe because i love them and wanted to do it right. i still kind of like the ambiguity of it all, if you squint. please let me know your thoughts and thank you for reading this series with me heh.

contains: making out, jealousy, anton is a tease, no protection is used (don't be like them), love confessions

see you around: one | two | three | four

Knowing that you wouldn’t have been in this position if you had acted differently a few months ago makes scrolling through her Instagram feed hurt even more.

You shouldn’t be so obsessed. The obsession started the next day when you posted the photos Giselle took of you on the fire escape. She came out with the smokers after everyone sang Anton happy birthday and took a picture of you on her digital camera. The tears were gone by then, only leaving you embarrassed and trying to hide from Giselle before she asked what was wrong. You cried some more, the smokers offered you a Lucky Strike to help you feel better.

Giselle took the cigarette on your behalf and clicked through her recent pictures on her camera. She said you were giving indie sleaze and Spring Breakers, all of that. You wouldn’t have preferred to post pictures of yourself after a cry. But your eyes didn’t look too bloodshot and you wanted to post proof that you were there, waiting for Anton on the fire escape even after he went inside. So you posted it and Anton liked it. But he didn’t comment and he didn’t ask if you privately if you had taken that photo on his fire escape. You were still clinging to the railing from when he had a hand around your waist but he didn’t comment. 

He commented on his own post, though. The girl who told him it was time to cut the cake and who planned the after party commented and Anton responded almost immediately. 

A simple reply from Anton started the obsession. You spent every night alternating between her Instagram feed, Anton’s Instagram feed, and your message history with Anton. You were stuck in a loop, late into every single night thinking about what you should’ve done. 

You were stuck on your chat history with Anton a little longer than usual. After his birthday there was there was radio silence from you both. You scrolled up through the history of you telling Anton that you were outside, him asking when and where to meet you. 

You didn’t know you had it so good then, that it was so easy. Anton was always there for you, early in the morning and late into the night. After classes and before, during parties, and after exams. You didn’t think that the conversation on the fire escape would’ve been the last. 

You kept scrolling. The implication of seeing the other around wasn’t a farewell. It didn’t feel like a farewell then, you don’t know if you could handle it being one now. 

Your thumb pressed on the chat absentmindedly. You were pulled all the way down to the recent message, a month ago when you told Anton in the middle of his party that you were coming. The bright light of your screen was burning your eyes as you typed something out before deleting it. You did that a million times, turning to your side trying to figure out what to do. Your blanket rested gently over your body as you pressed your face into the pillow, typing each word carefully.

you: are you mad at me?

you: i’m sorry if i did something wrong

Regret instantly bubbles in your chest and you squeeze your eyes shut like you’re trying to will away the message. But you see the speech bubble at the bottom of your chat history.

anton: i’m not mad at you

anton: is everything okay?

Anton told you himself that he’s not mad. He’s told you before that he’s never been mad at you. He’s told you he’s been confused by you, and now it seemed like he was worried for you. He texted back immediately just like he used to. It wasn’t too late into the night. You could be at his place in ten minutes.

You think Anton might’ve texted again while you were getting ready. You were just thinking that he’s never been mad at you, just confused or upset. He wasn’t mad on the fire escape when you told him that you probably wouldn’t go to the afters, he wasn’t upset that you said nothing in response to him to suddenly ask if he was mad at you. He didn’t tell you he was mad so he wasn’t, just worried. You didn’t need to read his text because you were already convinced, fully dressed and ready to go to his side of campus.

You got dressed in the dark, spritzing a perfume you bought with Anton in mind while you wore a shirt of his. You zipped up a hoodie of his that he gave to you and put sweats over your sleeping shorts. You got dressed quick, filling in the gaps of Anton asking you to come over.

You had figured he had given up to some extent to get you to be his. You were devising a plan in the midsts of getting dressed to let him know that you wanted more from him. Once you made it inside of his room you’d tell him that you missed him. During sex he’d ask you—like he always has—if it was all for him and you think you’d actually nod your head this time. Instead of teasing him you’d be brutally honest, or you’d say yes so sincerely he’d hear all the regret in your voice. You know that you’re the most vulnerable with him in the middle of the act. Maybe you’d let a declaration slip out in the middle of it, telling him that you could never handle a month of silence from him ever again. Maybe you’d say you were sorry while he laid you down and you would beg for another chance. He was more receptive to your emotionally stunted ways in that state, too. You know he’d coo at you and accept your apology. You know he’d tease you but there’d be sincerity, some gratitude for you being upfront. He might tell you he’d take you on a date and hold your hand in public. You’d react and tell him yes, because you’re positive that’s what you want now. 

The possibilities of the night made you move in a haste. You cleared campus to his dorm in eight minutes, phone tucked in the pocket of your hoodie. You were going through the outcomes when you entered his building, asking the resident assistant proudly if you could be scanned in to go to Anton’s floor. You bounced in front of the doors of the elevator, watching the number climb until you got to Anton’s floor.

You got out of the elevator quickly, turning the corner and going to his room so fast your feet dragged across the carpet. You went over your plan in your mind: tell him that you missed him, have sex, start an actual relationship. You were so preoccupied telling yourself this plan you didn’t notice your phone vibrating in your pocket. Only when you were in front of Anton’s door were you still enough to hear the sound of a phone vibrating and feel the slight sensation.

You fished your phone out before you knocked on his door. His contact picture took up your entire screen, and your heart seized in your chest at your routine being fulfilled. He was probably calling to ask if you could bring a condom. You had a few in your bag, but if this night went how you wanted maybe you wouldn’t need them at all. A teary love confession right before you both finished together sounded like something straight from a movie. You declined the call but instead reached forward to knock on his door.

Your phone started vibrating again as you stood in front of the door. Almost immediately the call dropped, and your phone revealed a series of texts you didn’t know you were ignoring on your journey here.

anton: hey is everything alright?

anton: i’m not mad, just confused.

anton: even more confused now.

anton: call me

anton: are you outside my door?

You could hear him on the other side of his door. Shuffling, moving things around, turning the lock. Your eyes were trained on the door where you thought he was on the other side. The more shuffling you heard the more nervous you became, thinking about the tone of his texts. 

Regret seizes in your chest and you think that Anton would’ve told you to go home if you were on your way. The longer it takes for him to open the door the more your mind wanders. The urge to leave takes up everything. You grip your phone tight and take a step away from the door.

Before you could turn and head back towards the emergency staircase, the door opens.

You have been here a million times before with Anton. Usually you’d be clad in black with a hat on like you concealing your identity. Regardless, he’d always pull the door open then pull you through it, kissing the top of your head to welcome you in. 

This time he only opened it enough for half his body to fit through. He doesn’t come into the hallway to greet you. He stayed in his entryway, caught between the door and the frame. He doesn’t greet you. He just stands there in his sweats. His hair had just finished drying, the length fluffy and curling around the frame of his face. There’s not the shy smile or smirk on his face either. His features are pulled together in worry and confusion, looking at you like you’re not real. He can look you right in the face without having you take off a hat or sunglasses. 

“What are you doing here?” he asks. 

He leans closer, just enough for his head to peer into the hallway. He looks left and right and you do the same, looking at an empty hallway on both sides. You teeter from side to side, hearing your sneakers drag across the low pile carpet. The slight scraping is grating, more than the fact that Anton hasn’t invited you in yet. He has also never scoped out the scene before. You usually did that because you were afraid of being caught.

He’s not mad at you; he could never be mad at you. You tell yourself he asks the question out of worry. You always gave a warning that you’d be coming over. But you also remember the sentiment that you were always welcome. Anton told you that you could come by any time when you asked if you could crash at his one night. He said that he wished he could give you a key so you could drop in whenever you liked.

But you also remember that he said those things post sex. His lovey-dovey pillow walk could’ve been all for show, or it could’ve been recanted when you said nothing to him for a month. When you had sex in your dorm it was pretty devoid of feelings then. You don’t think you looked at Anton’s face too much when you offered that he could spend the night. You try to find the same look on his face now.

“Sorry,” you say.

Anton shakes his head.

“Don’t apologize,” he says. 

He shuffles on his feet. You can barely see into his room but you’re thinking about why you haven’t been invited in yet. You can barely see into his room, only the part over his shoulder that shows the ceiling and the light embedded in the middle. 

He doesn’t smile at you in the moment of silence. He just keeps looking, one hand holding the door open and the other behind him. You can’t even reach out to him.

“What are you doing here?” he asks again.

You thought you were always welcome. It feels like you knocked on the wrong door, a stranger opened up instead of your Anton. 

“I’m sorry, I just thought…” you say, words trail off at the end.

“Is everything alright?” he asked.

The question was sincere. He leaned a little closer when he asked it. He wasn’t sure if he was trying to keep his voice down or if he was trying to come closer to you so you’d take a step forward. 

“Are you okay?” he repeated.

His concern is palpable. You take a step forward and he doesn’t flinch away. You nod, trying to string together enough of an apology to find your way in.

The arm he extended and the step you took forward made more of the room visible. In the smallest space that was open, you saw a shadow dancing on the ceiling. Your eyes darted from the space above Anton to the small gap that opened between his body and the door. 

You saw her sitting on the couch and she was looking towards you. You recognized her face from endless scrolling on Instagram. You recognized the shock because it was the same look she gave you and Anton when she came on the terrace. You couldn’t mistake her because you had seen her a million times. She was pretty in person too, even when she was shocked.

You pulled back almost immediately. Anton’s eyes got wide and yours did too. He couldn’t block your view in time. He blocked the small gap between his arm and the door, but it was too late. Suddenly the tone of his texts made sense. His urgency to get you to respond. You’re sure he would’ve told you stay home and that he had someone else over. But you ended up here, not trying to hide yourself. The girl knows who you are, she has seen you before.

Your face heats up as the second of eye-contact plays in your mind again and again. Everything comes down at once and so quickly you feel lightheaded. There’s an intent to get out. Your feet are planted, frozen in the doorway. Like you’ve been caught you hold your breath. You grip your phone so tight and finally take a step back. Anton comes forward, leaving his doorway and closing his door behind him so quick you jump.

He’s against his door and he’s looking at you like he’s waiting for something. He’s wearing the sweater with the swim team on it and a pair of jeans. He probably walked from practice with her. You thought you saw textbooks on the coffee table. Maybe he went and picked her up from class. Or maybe that Instagram story you couldn’t click on was a date. She was sitting in the same space you always used to occupy with a bewildered look on her face. You were supposed to be on that couch, or at the very least inside. Now you were trapped outside, Anton and the door and the girl in the way. 

“I should go,” you said finally.

You think Anton said something. You didn’t hear because you had turned on your heel and made your way for the staircase that led you down to the courtyard. 

You were a flight down when you heard the door open on Anton’s floor. You heard him making his way down the steps too, hurried like yours were. You kept going, the steps blurring together as you felt the sting at your waterline. You were closer and closer to the courtyard, then you could make the speed walk towards your dorm. You think you could hold your tears by then. Anton would see you disappearing down the path and give up to go back to his girlfriend that he was waiting for him in his room.

You pushed the door open and a gust of air hit you. The fresh air provided no relief, instead just stinging your already sensitive eyes. You immediately cut through the courtyard, speed-walking across the bricked path to your dorm. You heard the staircase door closing again, and the sound of footsteps following after you. A moment later you heard heavy footsteps coming closer. You kept moving forward. Anton called after you, but you didn’t stop moving.

He caught up to you eventually. With a hand on your forearm he stopped you from walking any further. Tears break past your waterline, forcing you to look down at the ground instead of looking at him.

You can feel Anton looming over you. You stare at his feet, his slides quickly thrown on in a haste to catch you. His hand is still around your arm, holding it gently. You can feel each finger pressed into your skin, burning from his body heat and your embarrassment.

“Why’d you run?” Anton asked. 

You shake your head. You bring your other hand to your eyes to wipe away forming tears.

“Didn’t you want to talk?” he asks. 

“I didn’t know you had someone over,” you say, still looking at his feet.

Anton lets go of your arm and you immediately try stepping backwards. He covers the distance you try to make. The wind settles, you see Anton’s other hand go to push his hair back.

“I didn’t even know you were coming over,” he says. 

When you still say nothing, Anton brings a hesitant hand to your shoulder. You feel the weariness when he massages you gently.

“I’m not mad.” He continues to massage your shoulder. You nod pathetically, wiping away more tears. “I just wish you would tell me what you were thinking,” he says.

“I just wanted to see you,” you say.

You’re surprised that the sentiment came out so quickly. You were supposed to hold it in until you got him alone in his room. You weren’t supposed to be completely vulnerable until you could blame it on the heat of a moment.

When you finally look Anton in the eyes you immediately see his expression drop. The confusion melts. Almost immediately the entirety of him softens, his hand is sure as it rubs your shoulder gently.

“Why are you crying?” he asks. When you try to look away his other hand goes to your other shoulder, angling your body towards him. “What’s wrong?”

Anton’s reflex to worry about you makes you even more teary. You hadn’t spoken in so long but he still cares. You think about that night on the terrace and how Anton was giving you the opportunity to stay. But then you think about the same girl that was at the party telling him to blow out the candles was the same girl that was in his dorm. You were in her place at one point, and knowing that you’ve been replaced but he’s still considerate of your feelings makes your vision watery.

“I just thought for some reason that if I came here like this it’d fix the problem between us.”

There’s a silence between the two of you. You hear shoes tapping on the paved walkway and there’s a gentle breeze. It pushes Anton’s hair back slightly.

“What’s the problem?” he asks.

You know he knows. Anton always seems to know everything, he only tries to coax answers out of you for sake of conversation. There’s something holding you back still. You know he knows that too.

The breeze wisping through the courtyard provides little relief to your stinging eyes. 

“Your birthday party,” you start.

“What about it?” he asks.

You turn your head to look at the side of his building. You think his room is facing the courtyard. You wonder if that girl is up there in the window looking down at the two of you.

“I know I said I’d see you around, but it sucks leaving it to chance,” you say.

“You don’t have to leave it up to chance,” Anton clarifies.

“That’s why I came here.” 

Your words trail off at the end as you vaguely look up to the floor Anton lives on. You don’t know which window is his exactly. Still, you scan the face of the building looking for someone standing in the window. 

You only look back to him when you hear him move. When his eyes catch a circular metal table he walks towards it, pulling at your shoulder slightly. You drag your feet to follow him. He sits down first and motions to the spot next to him. 

There’s no distance when you sit down. You look at the spot where your knees touch his. Anton is looking down too, before he looks up and catches your eye.

He’s silent for a long time. The light breeze pushes his hair before he flicks his head back. 

“We don’t have to leave it to chance, but knowing would be nice.” You watch Anton bring his hands together, messing with each individual finger. You can tell he’s thinking carefully about what to say next. He’s acting like you’re liable to burst into tears without telling him why. The thought of how gentle he is makes a bigger lump materialize in your throat. “I think what we had before—“

“Was better?” you finished.

Anton shakes his head. His hands go to the top of the table. His thumbs tap slightly on the grated top on the table. The small metallic sound is barely audible over the sound of people talking around the courtyard.

“What we had before was more consistent,” he says carefully, head turning towards you. “I knew what you wanted when you texted me late asking if I was up. I don’t know what you want when you pop up on me at a reasonable hour wearing my clothes.”

You look down at his hoodie. You’ve been sweating nonstop since he opened his door. You want to take it off, but underneath this you’re wearing one of his shirts.

“I just really wanted to see you,” you say.

“My friend also really wanted to see me.”

Anton emphasizing friend has your heart dropping to your stomach. You don’t think during your previous involvement you’ve ever referred to him as your friend. You think maybe he makes the girls he hooks up with call him that. Or you two were never anything to begin with. What he could’ve meant only hurts, and you’re forced to take it in stride.

“I’m your friend too,” you say after a moment of silence.

Your tone makes it sound like a question. The way Anton raises his eyebrows makes you even more confused. 

“My friend?” he asks.

You nod. His knee is so warm it bleeds through your clothes. It feels like there’s direct skin contact, or bone clashing into bone.

“I’m glad we are friends,” he emphasizes.

You nod again. Anton’s eyes are burning holes into the side of your face, but you focus on where your knees touch. The parts of his body that are in view flex, and with a quick peak upwards you see that he’s leaning against the table. His elbow is pressed into the grated metal and the side of his face is resting on the bottom of his palm. He taps his fingers on his face in a wave, looking at you with an expression you have trouble reading. The lamps in the  courtyard turned on automatically, lighting the parts of his face that the setting Sun missed. You think you see a smile before you focus somewhere else.

“Well,” he says, hands clapping together. “I’m glad we are friends.”

You hear the playful lift to his voice. Anton leans forward, until his elbow moves to rest on the edge of the table. He leans in, the same time he puts a hand on your knee that touches his.

“How was your day, friend?” he asks.

You can’t look down at your knee because you can feel the warmth of him through the fabric. The hand on your knee makes you believe you’re more than friends. The taunting tone in his voice makes you think he already knows what you’ve been doing all day. Cyberstalking him and the girl that was in his room. Ruminating on the past. Wallowing in self pity while trying to do coursework. Letting all your emotions boil over until they forced you come over to his dorm unprompted.

“I went to class,” you look towards a lamp post, squinting your eyes trying to think of what else you could say that wouldn’t be so pathetic. “did some homework.”

Anton hummed and nodded. Your hands were balled into fists, joints stiff as you motioned vaguely towards him.

“How was your day?” you asked.

Anton tilted his head towards the dark sky like he was thinking. His hand was pulsing a grip on your thigh.

“I also went to class. Then I went to practice and tore a hole in my swim cap by accident,” he answers.

You see the first break in Anton’s demeanor as he remembers his torn swim cap. He frowns slightly, fingers rubbing at his forehead.

“Gotta buy a new one, but I have to go to the other side of town to get the caps I like.”

“You’re in classes all day tomorrow too, right?” you ask.

Anton’s face changes again. He tilts his head and smiles at you, instead of a taunt you can tell he’s pleasantly surprised. You’ve had to pick up a thing or two about his schedule in the midst of your previous entanglement. He knew about yours, and he told you everything so it was only natural to remember it.

“Yeah, I’m in class all day.” Anton says, running his hand through his hair. “I gotta get the cap before my hair gets all messed up from the pool.”

You nod your head like you understand. You understand chlorine enough, the concept of chemicals and how they’d react to hair. You imagine being submerged in water in any capacity for hours on end would be Hell on hair. On Anton Instagram and the girls Instagram everyone is always wearing their headgear. Anton always ends up having a few strands of his hair peaking out from the bottom. 

Anton runs his hands through that part of his hair, staying at the ends and carding it through his fingers. You want to do the same, you get lost in the motion of Anton’s large hand grooming himself. His hand on your thigh just remained in a gentle squeeze. 

“You know,” he begins. You instantly perk up and stop looking at his hand. “I think friends also go to their friend’s swim practices.”

You nod. Anton smiles and nods back. It’s silent between the two of you. People pass by the both of you in the courtyard, coming home from night classes or a last minute cram at the library. You don’t withdraw from him at all. You let people walk by and look, you watch Anton watch them walk by. His gaze would flicker to you, like he was gauging for a reaction. To not pull away and to not react you had to freeze completely. But you felt Anton apply a little more force behind the hold on your thigh. 

Anton’s’ gaze flickers as one more person walks by. You hear a small sound of them saying hi and Anton is waving back and responding to them. You peer over your shoulder. You’ve seen that person before, you’re sure of it. Maybe it was at Anton’s party, or one of the functions at the abandoned warehouse. But you’re sure they know Anton because they make small talk, and he looks like he’s about to take a seat before he sees the hand on your thigh. Without missing a beat he bids Anton a farewell, and he continues making his way through the courtyard.

The two of you wait in the heavy silence. Someone saw you and Anton having a moment, where you were like a deer in the headlights and he was calm and collected. This must mean the hand on your thigh means more than just friends. 

But before you can read any more into it, Anton retracts his hand. He gets up from his seat fast, making you tilt your head up to look at him. This angle is awful. Too reminiscent. For a moment the reason you came by flashes through your mind. You were supposed to be spilling your guts in the middle of sex with Anton, not partially spilling your guts and groveling just to be in his life again. You didn’t think this is how the night would go. Now you’re his friend and he’s touching your chin playfully, making it tilt up even further to look at him.

“You gotta get home though, right?” he asks.

You swallow and nod your head to recenter yourself. You get up too, slowly but almost shaky on your legs.

Anton’s hands clap your shoulders. This is something he’s never done with you. He shakes you slightly, and you think he’s going to pull you in for a hug before he pulls away completely.

“Text me when you get home,” he says.

You want to ask him to walk you home. But you know that if you ask, he will say he has company over, and you will get that pang in your chest and the tense feeling in your jaw. 

“I will,” you said.

You turned the other direction and started walking back towards your building. You felt Anton still watching, and when you took a quick look over your shoulder he was there. Like a shadow he stayed by the table, lit up partially by a lamp post. You took a glance over him, where you think the light in his room was still on.

You texted Anton that you made it home and he responded. You went to sleep thinking about his indirect invitation slash order to come to his swim practice, and the girl that was waiting for him in his room. You woke up that morning thinking about how you were his friend now. You asked yourself what do friends do for eachother. Anton would be going to practice today with a torn swim cap, exposing his hair to the harsh chemicals of the pool. Friends wouldn’t let friends go through that.

All of your stalking came in handy. You found the brand of swim cap by zooming in on a picture Anton posted two weeks ago. The sports goods store wasn’t too far, and you had no classes to get in the way. You got his cap and you went back to campus.

You circled the entrance of the practice hall for twenty minutes. The nerves continued to prevail, each time you reached towards the door you thought about all of the possibilities. He had found enjoyment in labeling you as a friend last night. Maybe this was a trick to get you here, so he could laugh and joke with his friends about the desperate girl who wanted a second chance. You knew that girl would be here too, you’re sure you would be seen by his entire team. 

But you lost the right to choose. You were just his friend now, a friend who was on thin ice. If you wanted to get back to a semblance of anything you had before, this was the only way. If you turned around and left, you’d fill every room you entered with regret. Anton was waiting for you the same way he waiting for you to come to his game. You weren’t sure you’d be able to look at Anton ever again if you didn’t do this. So you took a deep breath, gripped the swim cap tight and pulled the door open.

Instantly when you passed the door you smelled the pool. The hallway had fluorescent lights embed into the ceiling and had warm lights in the display case. You saw trophies and banners and pictures of different athletic teams. You saw the accolades for the swimming team as you continued following the sound of water splashing.

The other parts of the gymnasium were relatively unoccupied. Some people were in the weight room, others were lying on cots getting massages or being inspected. You kept walking down the hallway, trying to seem like you belonged while gripping the swim cap like it was proof.

The pool was behind another set of double doors. You stay near the entrance, making the door close gently to avoid the sound echoing. The white walls are a stark difference to the vibrant green of spring outside. The tiled floor is different from the dirt, or the concrete that you nervously paced over for ten minutes. The weather in here is different too, the almost exact opposite of the clear spring outside. In here you’re drowning in the humidity, instantly feeling hot and damp in your clothes. Your heart is beating fast too, because you’ve never been here and you can already hear Anton’s voice echoing off the walls of the pool. You hear splashing and the sound of people jumping off the boards. Timers, clocks, instructors yelling about strokes. You squeeze the swim cap in your hand, feeling like you should turn around. You’re behind the coverage of the stands, you could turn around and no one would know. 

The air is so thick in here you could chew on it, and you can already feel sweat beading at your forehead. You walk forward, matching breaths with your steps trying to figure out why your heart is hammering in your chest.

Although you could hear Anton you had no idea where he was. His voice bounced off the water and the white walls, the sounds of people swimming threw you off. You thought that he would be on the other end of the pool, giving you a chance to see him before he saw you. Anton didn’t miss a beat instructing his team but he must’ve heard the door open, because the moment you passed the coverage of the bleachers and you saw him in your peripheral, he was already looking in your direction. 

You froze under his stare, staying still in the spot by the bleachers. You saw Anton freeze too, his hands that clapped for his teammates stayed fused together.

You wanted to turn on your heel and leave. The humid air was choking you and the warmth was making you sweat. You felt like every unpleasant smell from the day was attached to you, amplified by the muggy atmosphere. You felt sticky, your dirty hands were rubbing off on Anton’s brand new swim cap.

You saw Anton turn to his coach. Against it all you forced yourself to face him, even if you felt like your clothes were rubbing against your clammy skin. You felt soggy here, and it felt like Anton knew it. He walked towards you casually, looking like he belonged here. The blue reflecting off the pool complimented his tan skin, the water droplets on his shoulders from his hair looked perfect. 

In moments like this you remember that this could’ve been yours the whole time. Anton is careful navigating from the bleachers but doesn’t take his eyes off of you. You’re standing still and watching him, just waiting for him to come to you. 

You’re messing with the swim cap so much you think you’re wearing it down, already rubbing a portion of it thin from nerves. The repeated motion provides no relief, only making the palms of your hands sweaty. 

By the time Anton is in front of you, you’re sure you’ve rubbed a hole in the latex. Regardless, you present it to him, holding it out between the two of you so he couldn’t come any closer. 

“I got you a new swim cap,” you said.

You felt your voice get overtaken by the echo of water splashing. 

Anton looked down at the swim cap and you heard the coach blow the whistle. More splashing and water moving in the pool bounced off the walls. 

He took the cap from your hands, fingers brushing against yours. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” he said.

The genuine surprise in his voice cut through everything. The way he made eye contact made you look at his bare shoulder instead. Without even looking down you knew that his shorts were hanging low, only meant to cover the jammers he was swimming in. You could see his chiseled stomach, and you were thinking about the last time you had seen him like this. You also felt a flash of jealousy at the thought of everyone who has seen him like this since his birthday in March.

This could’ve been your life all this time. Bringing him things, crashing his practices, having him look at you with a grateful smile on his face. You like seeing him surprised, you like seeing him look at you and having other people see it too.

“It’s the brand I like too,” he says. 

You can’t stop yourself from smiling. You know that you did good, and that Anton likes it. He looks to the people swimming in the pool, then his coach behind him. The whistle blows again and you think that it’s time for you to leave.

“I just wanted to stop by—”

“Practice is almost over,” he says. “you don’t have any classes today, right?”

“You still remember my schedule?” you ask.

“Of course,” he says simply.

The coach blows the whistle and you hear the sounds of relief. The sound of water splashing decreases almost immediately, you hear wet footsteps splash in puddles surrounding the pool before Anton turns around. He’s holding the cap the same way you had it clutched before.

“Practice is almost over,” he repeats. He points past the double doors. “there are some chairs right past the doors. Wait for me?” 

You nod, and Anton immediately smiles. Before he turns around to join his team he comes close. You’re too slow to react, and he moves quick. He pecks your forehead when the creases from nerves finally smoothed out. You were in a state to react slow, because his reaction to the swim cap was already disarming. You can only let out a quick chirp, a delayed tensing of your entire body before Anton was already turning around to walk towards the rest of his team. You were there in the same spot for a solid six seconds, frozen until you heard Anton’s coach speak. Only then did you turn around and head back towards the double doors.

You waited patiently on the seats. You could hear the muffled sounds of everyone cheering and clapping, what you assumed to be the official end of practice. You heard the quiet chatter and the sound of people gathering their things. You were waiting to hear for something, then suddenly the doors swung open and everyone was leaving in a large crowd. You instinctually kept your head down as everyone walked by. You just stayed focused on their feet or pretended to look at your phone as they passed by. You didn’t look up, afraid you’d catch the eye of someone who would somehow know you.

Only when the final pair of feet stopped in front of you did you look up. Everyone else kept moving past Anton but he stayed there, one hand holding the strap of his duffle bag that was slung over his shoulder. He looked down at you with a smile on his face. You looked towards his teammates, who weren’t concerned with anything else besides making their way to the dining hall or finally going homw. He looked down at you like he didn’t kiss your forehead like he’s your boyfriend. He only motioned towards the exit.

“This way,” he said gently.

You can’t say much after you leave the gym. Your mouth is dry from Anton following your lead to get out of the building. You almost lead him to the locker room on accident, too afraid to ask him where the exit was. You couldn’t even manage looking behind you helplessly for Anton to point in the right direction. You just stumbled through, hearing his footsteps close behind you. 

When you were finally out you breathed the fresh air. April was always crisp, the cold weather from winter making the transition to spring. The setting Sun made the warmer weather become even more cool. The sweats Anton threw on after practice was perfect for this weather. His gray set looked comfortable, even in the sparse sections where the gray was dark from getting slightly wet. The neck, the bottom hem. Part of his sleeve and the hood. 

You’re still looking at the damp part on his chest when he’s suddenly coming too close again. You brace yourself for another kiss on the forehead, but he goes even further. He caves into you, one arm wrapping around your waist while the other cupped your face. You could feel the prune in his hands from being in the pool. He smelled like chlorine and a warm room, filling your nose as he kissed you. 

You instantly put your hands on the base of his neck to keep him there. The fabric of his hoodie was damp underneath your fingers from where the bottom of his hair was still shedding water droplets. You felt a few droplets fall on your hand, cold and slipping between the cracks of your fingers. You held him a little tighter because you thought he was pulling back, but he was only tilting his head to get a better angle. You mirrored him, leaning further into his body just to feel his arm wrap around your waist tighter.

He breathed hot air into your mouth and you did it back. Each time you pulled your lips back Anton chased after you, and when he pulled back you did the same thing. You were panting into him, too afraid to break him out of whatever mood he found himself in. Your chest was heaving from lack of air and excitement but you were focused on giving Anton back everything he gave you. 

You couldn’t stop yourself from whimpering when you felt his tongue push into your mouth. You touched your tongue to his, remembering the last time you were both like this. You fisted his hoodie to keep him in place and you felt his hand shift to palm the back of your head. You found yourself desperate to reach through the fabric and touch him. You were greedy, hand trailing up from his neck to grab a handful of his damp hair. You were careful to not grip, to not add too much pressure. Despite being lost in him you felt like you were only one misstep away from Anton remembering how awful you were and that he was supposed to be indifferent to you. You felt water droplets fall from his strands to transfer to your hands, traveling down your tilted arms before wetting the fabric of your shirt.

Anton’s arm wrapped around your waist to pull you even closer. You felt yourself shift to your tiptoes to accommodate, and then his hand that palmed your head moved to your chin. He tilted your head up until it broke the kiss. 

Before you could react to the loss of contact you felt his soft lips close around your bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth. 

He’s never done this with you. The idea that he’s tried this on someone else almost makes you want to pull away, but you feel the lightest pressure from his teeth and his arm around your waist refuses to loosen. It felt like he was trying to take a piece of you with him, you felt the pressure and the suction from his closed lips around yours. 

Both of his hands shifted to holding your face. You felt him press your cheeks together with gentle pressure, causing your lips to push into a pout. You narrowed your eyebrows from the inability to kiss him like you wanted. He was just eating you alive just a few moments ago but now he was hindering you. You let out a defiant sound, something that was pitiful because you wanted to keep kissing him and whiny because you wanted to show him that you were good at it.

Anton stopped kissing you deeply, pulling his tongue and face away to start kissing your squeezed lips. They were chaste and obnoxiously loud, replacing the sultry quiet with obvious smacking. 

You felt a breeze and opened your eyes to the orange sky and remembered that you were in public, and the loud sounds your lips were making could draw attention. You still didn’t pull at Anton’s hair, even if your cheeks were flamed from embarrassment. The side of his face caught the Sun, making his skin turn to a beautiful gold. The Sun came through the black hair you still refused to grip, blocking some of it from blinding you. You knew that behind you on the building for the indoor pool you and Anton formed one shadow. You could see Anton instead of just feeling him, the gentle swiping motion on your cheek with his thumb and the way his lips started curling into a smile with each loud kiss. You gripped his sweatshirt tighter, puckering your lips even further trying to do something on your own volition. 

The moment you started adding to the loud sounds of kissing, he pulled away. Anton ended it with a big final kiss, pressing your wet lips together before he pulled away with a mwah! Even if this was some form of torture you still whined from loss of contact, because Anton’s hands went back to being at his side. He smiled like his lips weren’t covered in your spit and like your bottom lip wasn’t thrumming from the pressure. 

Your chest was rising and falling quickly. When Anton pulled away. the Sun was fully on you now, the light slightly blinding you. Your pupils weren’t prepared for the light, you were disoriented from lack of oxygen but Anton was smiling at you like you weren’t about to burst into flames. You were so consumed that when he came close you leaned in again, preemptively parting your lips.

He passes your lips completely, mouth going to your ear instead.

“Thanks for the swim cap by the way,” he whispers.

His voice is surprisingly even. Your fingers were cramped from holding his sweatshirt so tight. He bent over to grab his duffle bag. You were trying to figure out when he dropped it as you cleared your throat.

“No problem,” you replied.

Your voice was scratchy and raspy. You straightened your clothes and didn’t know what to do with yourself.

“You gonna come see me at practice tomorrow, too?” he asked.

You nodded, licking your lips to taste him.

“At the end of the week there’s a few teams coming from surrounding colleges and we are going to have a little mock swim meet.” 

You were still nodding your head. Your chest was heaving, you breathed through your nose like you just climbed a flight of stairs. You were still clutching desperately at his hoodie when he smiled and touched your chin.

“Tomorrow you can just go up to the press box and watch from up there,” he said. 

Each order was received with a nod. You were still trying to ground yourself when Anton started walking away from the gymnasium.

“You gotta get back to your dorm right?” he asked, tilting his head in the general direction of your place.

You trailed behind him, fixing the part of your jacket that slipped off your shoulder. You were rushing behind him, trying to figure out if whatever had happened to you actually happened. Your chest was still hammering looking at Anton push his hands into his pockets. Those same hands were pushing your jacket off your shoulder and pulling you closer. He was everywhere just a few moments ago, you couldn’t fake nonchalance like he was. He slowed down and you closed the distance. The moment you were next to him he pointed his thumb in a different direction.

“I have to go somewhere though,” he said. 

“That’s fine,” you said.

“I’m meeting somebody,” he added.

There was a falter in your steps. A break in the steady breeze. You shook your head slightly before looking down to your feet.

“I understand,” you said.

“See you tomorrow,” Anton bumped playfully into your side. “friend.”

This was the fourth day you were trapped in the press box during Anton’s swimming practices. The broadcasting microphones for announcers and the rigid seats were your only company. You were scared at first being here, afraid to even settle in the seats worried that you’d mess something up. Anton had to assure you over text that he was using his captain privilege so you had endless access to the empty space. The room was unused in the off-season and wasn’t stuffy like the pool, a perfect place just for you.

You had the best view of the swimming pool below. You stopped telling yourself that you were here to do homework on the first day. You made sure to get everything done before coming, because the books you brought would always end up closed, your head balanced on top as you looked down at him. Now, you shamelessly watched Anton from above. You felt like a creep, keeping a close eye on him and never bothering to look anywhere else. You had to cover your face with your hand whenever he would take his shirt off and bashfully look away when he’d occasionally lift his head towards you. 

Anton was talented. Even by knowing only the bare minimum about swim you knew that he was gifted. There was always kept a gap between him and whoever he was next to in the water. He watched his teammates alongside the coach and helped whoever needed it. He even had his own whistle, leading reps whenever the coach was out doing something else. 

You were subjected to seeing him shirtless while leading a team everyday. You have been forced to think about your relationship up here in the solitude of the press box. Atleast you weren’t in the muggy atmosphere of the pool. Here the air was clearer and didn’t smell like chlorine. 

Still, it would get a little harder to breathe seeing Anton from up here all day. You had grown accustomed to hearing your own labored breathing at the sight of him pulling himself up out of the pool. He always wore the swim cap you got him, water shedding from his body as his muscles tensed. Seeing him hold his breath and get serious as he sliced his hands through the water. 

You found an inexplicable joy in watching him from up here. You knew what he was doing, who he was talking to. Because you had limited access to Anton now, there was plenty left to your imagination. When you were up in the press box looking down at him, there was no room for confusion. 

But today was different. Anton told you that colleges surrounding the area were coming for a mock swim meet. When you came into the press box today and sat in your chair you saw that the usual number of people had tripled. You were lost in the sheer amount of swimmers, your elevated view of the gym didn’t help. You couldn’t find Anton by his swim cap because everyone was wearing the cap of their designated school. 

Your elbows are propped on the small desk as you search for him. He’s not poolside, he’s not chatting with his coach who is chatting with the other coaches. He wasn’t in the pool getting practice laps in. You kept searching, you looked for people wearing your school colors one by one. You even scooted to the edge of your seat, trying to get the best vantage point possible.

You found Anton sitting on the bleachers. On the outskirts of what you could see, he was at the edge, leaning against the safety curtains. A towel was slung over his shoulders. He wasn’t wearing the swim cap you got him either. What was the most jarring was seeing the amount of people surrounding him. He was not talking to anyone from his team, you saw they were mingling with people from other campuses or helping organize the space as stand-in managers. 

Anton was fully entertaining a group of girls. He was in the middle of it, too. Two girls sat on the row behind him, leaning forward to hear every word he was saying. One of the girls feet was propped on the row Anton sat on. Her foot was so close the side of his leg, each time she moved she grazed his body. A girl on the row in front of him had her back fully resting against the safety curtains, looking at him and anyone who was talking. When she spoke she only looked towards him. She was sitting next to a girl whose head was on a swivel, the closest to Anton and the only one you couldn’t get a good look at. Anton had one foot propped right next to her. Sometimes the conversation only seemed to revolve around them, with everyone else listening in. Two girls sat at the row below them, side by side. They fully had their backs facing you, but you could see them occasionally bump shoulders whenever Anton wasn’t looking at them. There were three more girls on his side that wasn’t against the safety curtain, one on each row their group occupied. They all leaned in, facing towards Anton. The girl on his row was only separated from him by his duffel bag.

They all had the same body language, caught up in Anton and every move he was making. You watched each of them take turns looking at his shoulders and what his towel was covering. Occasionally  they’d catch eachother taking peaks, to which they’d make small expressions they thought Anton didn’t catch. Or maybe they wanted him to see. 

You never thought a view of him from up here could end up like this. You liked seeing him from up here because you liked thinking about him having an audience up here. You wondered if he behaved differently with you watching as opposed to you not. You told him you would come a little bit before the mock swim meet because you had class. You took your phone out of your pocket, placing it flat on the table. You continued watching him as you pressed your passcode from muscle memory. You went to your messages, only taking a peak at your phone to make sure you were in the chat you had with him. 

There was anger in choosing what to look at. You couldn’t bring yourself to miss Anton getting closer to a girl to repeat something but watching all of them lean in. You watched one fold her arms closer to her chest and make the smallest movement to get closer to him. When he stopped holding his towel over his shoulders they all peeked, looking at his hands go down to rub down his legs quickly. They smiled when he smiled, they laughed when it seemed like he said nothing. You rolled your eyes and fully went to your phone. You picked it up from the surface of the table, hearing each defining click as your fingers jabbed your keyboard.

you: i’m here.

Heat fanned your face as you watched his phone light up on the bleachers. You saw three of the girls lean in at the same time, trying to see what was happening before Anton grabbed his phone. He was calm. You gripped your phone tight in your hands, fingers pressing into the keys so hard alternative options for the letters popped up. 

You didn’t even get the satisfaction of seeing the read receipt. No text bubbles to show he was typing, no glance upwards to the press box. You just watched Anton turn off his phone and set it face down on the bleachers, continuing the conversation like nothing happened. 

You didn’t know what he was saying, just watching his lips move before he sat up a little straighter. You watched his towel slide off his shoulders, falling down completely to the aisle behind him. Part of the towel ended up on the foot of the girl sitting behind him. She moved and you watched her hand push into his bare shoulder. All the other girls followed suit, pushing at some part of his body. One pushed his bare knee, the other pushed his thigh. Someone pushed at his other shoulder, and another pushed his chest. Each of their hands touched his body in a terrible sequence, to which he held up his arms like he was sorry. You saw his arms flex, to which all the girls pinched the muscle and made shrill sounds you swore you could hear.

Anton was bashfully putting his head down too. You saw that he had the same knowing smirk when he’d wind you up. He shook his head while all the girls chatted amongst themselves. The second they weren’t looking at him he was looking at you up in the press box. Your tongue was poking the inside of your cheek, you pulled your hands across your chest so tightly it almost hurt. His smile is so innocent. You think your phone is going to crack in your hand. 

You go to your phone and start typing again.

nice to see you with your other frien|

this is why i never|

you need to stop talking to the|

Nothing seems right. You know that you can’t stop him, but it’s egregious. The way he lets the girls touch all over him, how he doesn’t try to stop it. He knows you’re up here. He knows you’ve been watching him and usually around this time of day he would be kissing you like he was yours again.

When you heard the voice of the coach saying it was time to start the meet all of them turned around. The girls whose face you couldn’t see turned around, and you let out a quick sigh of defeat. The girl that was caged in by Anton’s foot and looking at him intently the entire time was the same girl in his dorm that night. She made sure to wait for him to gather his things so she could follow him down the bleachers too, holding out a cautionary hand towards his back like she was going to fall.

you: it’s nice to see you with your other friends.

You sent the text in a blind rage. You saw his hand holding his phone, and felt the quick satisfaction of seeing him receive the notification. You saw him look at his phone and felt sick pride bubble in your chest as his steps faltered on his way down the steps. You saw him type, and in real time you saw the text bubble appear at the bottom of your message history.

anton: you haven’t even seen all of them yet :)

The mock swim meet continued with the same energy. You didn’t know that Anton was such a celebrity. People from colleges who weren’t outwardly cheering him on watched from the bleachers. Even those who were next up weren’t concerned with getting their head in the game; they were concerned with watching Anton get into position on the starting block. The low chatter ceased and there was bated breath. Anton went into each different pose with the countdown, then when the whistle blew he dived in. 

There was a different intensity compared to his practices. Where he was more focused in helping his teammates or talking to his coach, this was different. He launched himself into the pool, he was bringing his arms so quickly into the pool you almost missed it. He pushed off the other side of the pool with ease. That playful attitude was gone, replaced with a need to win at a competition that meant nothing. 

He beat a record, you were sure because everyone was amazed when the final time appeared on the board. The easygoing way he approached practice was replaced with speed and technique. You understood why he was beside the coach during practice and the captain of the team. 

Seeing him win only fueled that anger rolling in your stomach. The sensation became even worse because he was a good swimmer, and he knew that he was playing you. You were also mad because you should’ve been uninterested, but the way he went through the water had you on the edge of your seat watching intently.

The meet went by fast. You were up in your tower, watching as Anton and everyone else made their way out of the pool and put their clothes back on. 

Everyone gathered around the edge with their towels draped over their shoulders, listening to whatever the coaches was saying. You watched Anton meander off to the edge of the group, and then you saw him look up to you. Almost immediately you sat up a little straighter, and when he waved slightly you just clutched your hand at your side.

You don’t think anyone noticed you up there. But a moment after Anton looked up to wave at you, the girl standing beside him looked up next.

You and Anton haven’t talked about her since you came to his dorm that night. You figured that you don’t really have the right to ask because you two weren’t together. The conversation in the courtyard was about being friends. You think the making out was meant as a form of torture, and the fact that you two only kissed in public instead of in private was punishment as well. The girl that was in Anton’s room must’ve known about you, you’re sure of it. She was looking at you like you were familiar, and you saw her take the smallest side-step away from him.

But you’re taken out of your rumination. Anton watched everyone else clear out of the gymnasium and stayed behind like the good captain he was. You were sure he was also fishing for more attention, because almost everyone on their way out congratulated him on his performance. They patted his back and you were rolling your eyes. You noticed that the girl stayed behind too. While Anton was saying goodbye to his teammates, the girl talked to the coach. When everyone had finally left it was the two of them talking to the coach for a while. You were fidgeting in your seat, wondering what their coach was saying to them that had them listening closely and nodding their heads. 

You felt your chin dig into the top of your hand. You knew that it was past the time for thing to be over, and that this meeting was cutting into your after-practice time with him. You two were supposed to be spending a good five minutes kissing like you’d never get the chance to again. 

The first day it was outside the building. The second day it was on the bleachers, when Anton beckoned up to you in the press box and you rushed down. Yesterday, he sent you a text to go come into the locker rooms and you had to pretend to have better judgement just for him to tell you it was clear and you wouldn’t get caught.

Without fail, each time was intense. Anton using one hand to cradle your neck and the other pulling you closer. You were always holding onto him so roughly your fingers would cramp and you’d work through depleted lungs and a tense jaw. You knew you were taking it more serious than him, when his kisses would turn playful you were just as desperate, pulling him closer and tilting your head in an effort to push into him. You were so enveloped you never even commented on how he’d smile into your lips, obviously finding humor in the way you were so clearly obsessed.

You couldn’t tell him to not make fun of you because you were too entranced. You were completely engulfed, completely submerged in everything about him. The way he smelled like chlorine and a warm room, the way he held you even if he found it amusing. He kissed you like he meant it, even if you were sure this was another way of him torturing you for previously torturing him. 

Regardless of how he treated you, the post-practice makeout was the only time that it felt like you two weren’t at odds. Even if he laughed into your kisses and he was always the one to break away from you, that was the tiny sliver of life with Anton where his intent of remaining friends faltered. 

You took your kissing time very seriously. So you couldn’t stop yourself from letting out a sigh while watching Anton and the girl and their coach talk. You’re sure it was important. But they were talking for two minutes already and that was two minutes less you’d have of Anton kissing you and pulling you closer. He already spent so much of the meet with her. You wondered what else they could be talking about while you clutched your phone tighter to your chest.

When the coach walks off you let out another breath. This one is relief, you turn the chair next to you to start putting all your things together in your backpack. You waste no time slinging the bag over your shoulder to get ready to meet him poolside. You look down one more time just to get the signal from Anton on where to meet. Instead of him looking up at you with a knowing smile on his face he is looking down at the girl and talking to her.

You can’t stop yourself from plopping yourself down in the chair and letting out an annoyed breath. You tilt back in the chair as much as it will allow, until it creaks and you have to dig your feet into the ground to keep going. The chair rocks back and forth, letting you see Anton and the girl before you go back too far and they disappear from your view. You repeat the motion over and over, tilting back and forth to watch their conversation continue to go on. One minute of Anton kissing is replaced with him talking to the girl. You can’t stop yourself from rocking back and forth, each time they disappear from your view you pray that they won’t still be talking. 

When you rock forward, convincing yourself that you’ll get up and leave this time, you see both of them looking up at you. 

Instantly you straighten. The chair creaks behind you again but you remain upright, not giving to the momentum. You look down at them, hands gripping the armrest as you push yourself further upright. Anton motions to you and the girl reaches a hand up to wave at you. You wave back after a moment, and then Anton is looking at her again. You see her nod, then he puts a hand on her shoulder and she starts walking towards the exit. 

You continued to watch her walk away, leaning forward as far as you could go. You leaned so far you almost slid out of the seat. Only when you saw the exit open do your shoulders relax. You quickly look back where Anton was walking, just to see that he’s standing on the outskirts of your line of sight. He’s smiling up at you, just to exaggerate turning his body towards the exit that the girl walked to. You try to change the subject by getting up from your seat, but Anton puts both of his hands up and mouths stay there. So you stay. You sit back down in the creaky chair and wait for Anton to make his way through the gymnasium to get to you.

Anton knocks and peaks through the door like you wouldn’t be there. You can tell he’s being playful before opening the door fully to come in.

He changed back into the clothes he was wearing before the swim meet. Light wash jeans hugged his thighs and he was wearing something that looked like a band tee. He had a zip-up hoodie slung over his duffle bag.

“You were watching me like a hawk,” he says playfully.

You go to take your backpack out of the chair so Anton can sit but he just comes closer to you instead. He throws his duffel over your bag. Instantly you reach forward and pull his bag off of yours, putting it on the floor.

“I don’t want my bag smelling like chlorine,” you say.

There’s an edge to your voice. Anton picks up on it immediately, raising an eyebrow. He’s slow draping the strap of his back on the back of the chair so it’s not touching the ground.

“Fair enough,” he says casually. 

The refusal to give a reaction makes you even more upset. The fact that he gets on his knees in front of you and parts your legs with his own hands to accommodate his body makes you even more upset. Like he wasn’t whoring himself out for everyone, he puts his head against your knee and cages himself between your legs.

“I wasn’t watching you like a hawk either,” you add.

Anton guides your hand to his head but scoffs. You refuse to touch him, a motionless hand just resting on top of his soft hair.

“I could feel your eyes on me the whole time,” he says

You grip his hair slightly. He only leans into your hand, rubbing gently on your thigh.

Anton moves to fully rest his body against your leg. His other arm wraps around your calf to bring it closer.

“I’m so drained,” he says.

“I’m sure you are,” you scoff.

Your hands in his scalp become a little tighter. You purposefully pull at his hair rough, gripping rather than massaging. He only moves to balance his chin on your knee to look up at you.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks.

“You just looked busy is all,” you answered.

“Well I was swimming a ton,” he says.

The faux innocence is palpable. His eyes are wide like he’s genuinely confused, but there’s that same haughty smirk he wears after kissing you. You didn’t know he was such a player. You pull at his hair again, he doesn’t wince like you wish he would. He just sighs, leaning into your grip.

“Feels good,” he sighs.

Just for that, you pull a little harder. Finally he winces, eye closing on the side you pulled.

“You like the swim cap I got you?” you ask.

Anton hums a yes. You feel more of his weight lean into your leg, to the point that you have to flex so you can support him. 

“Why didn’t you wear it?” you ask.

You know why. He had to wear the school-issued hat because it was a swim meet. He has to follow your hand to alleviate the pressure. You move a piece of hair from the side of his face to see his reaction. 

“Had to wear the schools,” his arm wraps tighter around your leg. “gotta represent.”

You watch him part his lips to say something else.

“Did you know everyone here?” you ask.

He moves his head so his chin is balanced on your thigh. He looks you right in the eyes and his hands drum a pensive beat on your thigh.

“I went to highschool with some of them. Met some of them through competitions over the years. Friends with a few of the girls—“

At that you pull Anton’s hair too hard. He reaches up to grab your wrist quickly, rounding around it with ease.

“Too rough,” he breathes out. 

“Sorry,” you apologize.

Anton’s hand around your wrist makes you have terrible flashbacks. There are thoughts of him being in this same position with him, playing with his hair after everything. The sound he made when you pulled at his hair made you remember how easily he folded to pain and liked being marked. Despite your apprehension Anton would reveal his neck and chest to you. You’ve compromised with him by leaving a few marks on his waist before his meets, something that would be covered up by his compression shorts. As you look down at his face now you wished you would’ve left an angry mark on his neck. If there was a purplish bruise forming on his chest those girls wouldn’t have been all over him. 

Anton fully lifts his head from your leg to smile. Your cheeks are burning that you were caught being jealous. He just clasps over both of your hands easily, moving them back and forth before he kisses the side of your fist.

“Come with me to the bar tonight,” he says.

Anton was completely indifferent to your confession. He kisses your hand again when you take too long to answer, and you remember that you haven’t kissed his lips in more than twenty-four hours. 

“Who’s going?” you asked.

Anton’s lips are still pressed into your hand before he pulls away slightly. His bottom lip catches on your thumb before he pulls away fully.

“My teammates,” he answers. “the girls from the other colleges are going, too.”

You clench your fists in his hold, your tongue runs over your top row of teeth.

“Why are you inviting me?” you ask.

“I like inviting my friends to functions.” Anton says. 

Your jaw tenses at his answer. The quick answer causes almost a knee-jerk reaction. Your eyes that were always darting around him threatened to roll to the back of your skull. Anton keeps his eyes on you, and you pull your hands from his grasp to reach for your backpack in the seat beside you.

“Yeah. I’ll go,” you say.

Anton perks up immediately, standing to his feet in an instant to clap his hands together.

“That’s great to hear,” he says.

He already is turning around and adjusting his duffel on his shoulder to head for the door.

“As friends,” you add.

“As friends,” Anton repeats.

He opens the door for you, using his foot as a stopper and stretching his arm towards the dark hallway. You’re trying to keep your face neutral, it’s harder to hide when you don’t know how to feel. You just know you’re tired of seeing the smirk on Anton’s face everytime he gets a good look at you. You force yourself to smile as you clutch your strap closer to your body.

“As friends,” you say one last time.

Anton doesn’t repeat it, he just nods as you pass by him, reaching his body forward to nudge you as you tried to make your way through the doorway.

The gymnasium has been completely cleared out by the time you leave. Anton leads the way because most of the buildings lights have been turned off. You have to go a different way than usual, going through the weight room instead of past it like you had before. As he led the way you were thinking about all the possibilities of going to the bar. There’d be girls drinking. The thought of drunk girls surrounding Anton made you upset, and being upset made you cringe inwardly and even more angry. You couldn’t stop thinking about girls becoming more bold and properly touching him, or feeling him up in some dark corner of the bar. Anton was single, he only had friends. You couldn’t stop him but you didn’t want him to go.

He pulls out his phone while he’s walking in front of you. It’s the only source of light in the emptied building. You can see Anton hunched over to look at his screen. You watch his duffle sway back and forth on his shoulder, bumping into his leg while he’s engrossed in whatever is on his screen. 

Your journey is mostly quiet, just the sounds of your feet moving against the linoleum floors. You hear the occasional squeak. The blues from the pool reflect through the hallways. You follow the light of Anton, who is so engrossed in it he doesn’t look up even when opening the door. You’re sure he only holds it open for you from muscle memory, still looking at his phone while he his foot acts as a doorstopper. He only leaves the door when you walk past him. 

You take the quickest peak to the side. You don’t know who you were expecting Anton to text. You hoped it was one of the men on his team, maybe even the coach. But when you took the quickest peak while Anton was enveloped in the conversation it was with the girl. Something about where she parked her car. She was asking about his estimated time of arrival because you saw Anton take a look at the time on the top of his phone before his eyes darted to you.

You were already looking forward by that time. You were sure he saw you inspecting the chat history between him and the girl. Maybe if he slipped up enough you could see him sending the same teasing texts he was sending you. You eye his phone again, trying to focus between looking and taking steps towards your doom. You can’t imagine what a car ride would be like with her. You couldn’t imagine sitting through the journey of Anton sitting in the passenger seat, just to go to a bar where a million girls would hit on him.

You make it to the parking lot. To the left is Anton’s dorm and to the right is yours. Straight ahead there’s the car. You watch Anton wave and the headlights blink twice.

“I call shotgun,” he says casually.

You stop in your tracks. You see the same smirk he’d have whenever he’d pull away after kissing you like his life depended on it. You know he’s not joking, and you imagine how happy he’d be to have you and the girl in the same small confined space together.

Anton turns around after you didn’t follow behind him. His smile doesn’t falter. He only tilts his head casually towards the car and holds out a hand.

You go past the offer to his wrist. You grab it fast, hand wrapping around the bone and you press your fingers into his skin. His arm falters from the sudden force, his body gives when you pull him towards you. The shock on his face is palpable, his eyes are wide and looking at you. The car lights blink again and you go left, pulling Anton after you. 

When you feel the hesitation in his steps you only pull harder. When he staggers because he’s off-balance and confused you only keep going. You deviate from the path to walk on the grass. The car lights fade away and you hear the notifications coming through on Anton’s phone. You only look behind you to make sure Anton is following every single step. He does take a peak at his phone, walking confidently before falling in place behind you.

“Her car is this way,” Anton says, pointing in the opposite direction. 

You barely grunt in response.

“She texted me saying she saw you pull me away,” he continues.

“I don’t care,” you reply.

Despite the unnecessary words, Anton doesn’t stop you from pulling at him. You know the grip you have on his wrist must be painful, but he says nothing. You dig your nails into his wrist just to prove it, you even change where you grip his forearm to get a better hold on him.

“She asked me if everything is okay,” he says.

You can hear his feet dragging across the grassy field. 

“Stop talking about her,” you say quietly.

His dorm is in viewing distance. For the first time since you started moving you feel the slightest resistance in his steps. 

“Where are we going?” he asks.

He talks too much. He has to know where you’re taking him. He knows what his dorm building looks like, he’s walked this path hundreds of times. 

He has been on a mission to push your buttons, prying and asking questions he already has the answers to. Insisting you two are friends but kissing you, showing off his body to anyone who will look, making you come to his practices like you’re a fan. He has had you watching him from a distance entertaining everything that would’ve gotten a rise out of you. You came to him and even apologized. You watched the girl in his dorm room staring at you while you were wallowing in regret and gettin ready to apologize and beg for another chance. You have been working off the regret and shame that came with turning him down you’ve accepted the shit he’s thrown at you. You’ve taken all of that but he won’t even shut up and follow you back to his place. 

After you don’t respond to him you get your moments of silence. You continue to cut across the large grassy quad, breathing through the bursts of liquid anger that bubble in your stomach. The dragging steps calm you, and you think you might be able to vocalize calmly to Anton about where you’re taking him to.

“My friend is waiting up so we gotta go to her car—”

Instantly you turn around. Anton almost bumps into you from the sudden stop.

“We aren’t fucking going to her car, we aren’t going anywhere with her,” you say.

You are still holding onto Anton’s forearm tightly. You can see the dimples in his skin around your fingers from the force. 

Despite this, despite everything, he still has that coy look on his face. 

“Why not?” he asks tilting his head.

You smile, letting out a sigh and closing your eyes. For the first time you let go of Anton’s forearm and your fingers cramp for a second from the rough hold you had on him. 

You take a step forward. Your hand presses to his solid chest and like a lightning strike everything comes down at once. You laugh dryly and take another step forward.

“You think I’m going to go to the fucking bar,” you tilt your own head slightly. “so I can watch a bunch of drunk girls throw themselves at you?” 

Anton keeps the same coy look. There’s a twitch upwards at the corner of his lips. You drag your hand from his chest to his forearm, where your fingers fit right where they were before. You don’t even have to tug on him again. He follows behind you silently. You can feel his arm tensing in your hold.

The first few steps are silent. You make it to the crosswalk.

“Then where are we going?” he asks.

Anton’s question floats in the air right as you two end up in front of his building. 

You’re calmer now though. Instead of having an outburst like you did on the grassy quad. People walk by you two, going in and out of the building. Your hand moves down from Anton’s forearm, interlacing your fingers. He reciprocates the hold, and you guide him to walk at your side.

“We are going to your room,” you say sweetly. “is that not fucking obvious?”

The sudden change of light going into the lobby of the building makes you blink. The harsh fluorescent lights are different from the warm glow of the street lamps. You can see Anton clearly now, and he looks at you like he knows something that you do not.

But he’s obedient. You both make a straight path for the elevators. He presses the button and by a stroke of luck there’s an elevator already waiting for you both. You step in forth, and you pull at his hand to bring him in.

There’s barely any commotion in the lobby. Many people opt to take the stairs, others sit in chairs scattered throughout the space. Some boring movie plays in common area. A residence assistant sits at a brown reception desk, scrolling away on his phone. No one notices you impatiently spamming the button to get the doors to close.

You two both watch the doors come to a close at the same time. In the gray metal reflection you see Anton standing behind you, leaning against the brown speckled wall. There’s a moment before you feel the upwards lurch of ascension. You turn to face him. 

Anton is fully smiling now, and you press both hand to his chest to fully back him into the corner. In the stumble you bring your lips to his.

The clash of teeth causes you both to stumble. You have both of your hands fisted in his shirt, wrapping them in your hold as you bring him closer. He wraps his arms around your waist quick. Like you’re going to lose him you pull even harder, working down to try and find the right place. You kiss him deeper and Anton reciprocates. You push against him harder, until you hear the dull thud of his head hitting the walls of the elevator. You finally find satisfaction in tucking your fingers under the waistband of his jeans where you can feel the bare skin of his waist.

“So warm,” you murmured against his lips. 

Anton was breathing heavy against your face. His lips were already pink and plump, there was a flush across his cheeks. His chest pressed against yours.

Anton mumbled something back and you felt his hands collect around your wrists. With the smallest amount of force you used all of your strength to keep your fingers tucked in his waistband. Anton didn’t pull your hands away but he moved his head backwards. You carelessly chased after him. 

“All mine,” you breathed out.

You don’t know if you said that on purpose. You were feeling heady, because Anton followed after you and showed no intent on disobeying. The more you press your fingers against his waist the more you think about Anton looking to you while talking to the girl. He was trying to make you jealous. The conversation in the press box, the intense makeout sessions. All of it was a ploy to get you here, pressing desperately against him and trying to swap more spit with him.

“All yours?” Anton asked.

“You’re mine,” you answer. “tired of pretending you’re not.”

He leaned fully in the corner of the elevator, standing straight to look down at you. You nodded without missing a beat and Anton shivered against your body.

His hands were still wrapped around your wrists. The elevator continued to dinged as it climbed up the floors. You thought that you had been in here for a century because something grand was waiting for you at the end of the journey. You didn’t even bother looking towards the door, busy trying to push past the threshold of Anton’s strength to go deeper into his jeans. The denim was already causing enough resistance. After you maintain eye contact there’s not only a lack of force from Anton’s hands, but guidance. He pushes your hands further into his pants, and you go even deeper. You can feel his dick hardening in his boxers, you can feel his taut skin against your fingertips.

You hear the ding of the elevator and it opens up to Anton’s floor. The hallway to his room seems so far but you have to take the trek. You pull your hands out of Anton’s pants to tug at his belt loop. He gets the hint and walks out of the elevator past you. Under the bright light of the elevator you can see him trying to catch his breath. 

Anton makes his way down the hallway leisurely. You’re walking behind him, dragging your feet because he’s doing the same. You take this time to be all over him: running your hand up and down his back, shifting your hands into his pockets, touching his hair. Every part of Anton you can touch you do. 

You’re still pawing at him when you get to his door. You feel the hard planes while you hear the sound of a key bumping into metal, a door handle failing to turn fully and the small sounds of Anton’s exasperated sounds. You’re pushing a little harder into him, wrapping your arms around his body. You feel up his arms and his hands, failing to put the key in and failing to properly open the door.

“Anton,” you whine. “hurry up.”

“I’m sorry baby,” he says gently.

You keep leaning against his body, until your ear is pressed to his back. When you’re flush against him you feel the light vibration of laughter, and you pull away instantly.

“Are you messing up on purpose?” you ask.

This is the loudest you’ve ever been in this hallway. The words bounce off the wall and has Anton looking over his shoulder to properly laugh at you.

You snatch the keys from his hand and bump into his body to push him out of the way. He purposefully puts his hand on your shoulder, trying to cage you in. You don’t falter, shrugging your shoulder to get his hand off of you. When you actually miss the keyhole Anton laughs even louder. 

Then, a second later the door opens. It’s a sound that comes with relief from you, and you step through the threshold first. You pull him in after you because he’s standing not moving an inch. By both hands on his arms you pull him and Anton lets himself be pulled, all the way until your back is against the door and he’s caging you against it. You bring him down by a hand on his neck until he bends into you. 

You’re purposefully sloppy with your kisses. You figure it’s giving him a taste of his own medicine, sticking your tongue inside until it touches his. Your hands are spanning down his chest, unzipping his hoodie and pushing it off his shoulders and revealing his undershirt. You run your hands over the ribbed fabric, going over his chest and even kneading his solid body. When he tries to touch your waist you reach down and smack his wrist away.

You’ve wanted his touches. You gave him the chance to reciprocate. You need time to reclaim everything before he tries to do the same. 

On the third smack of his wrist he finally understands. He presses his forearms to the door on either side of your body when your tongue runs over his lips.

“I don’t know why I let you convince yourself that you’re hard to read,” Anton says.

His chest pushes into yours each time he breathes. You think it’s your spit peaking past his lips. Your hand tucks underneath his waistband again and you reach your hands deep, until you’re hand is pressed between denim and muscular thighs. You like the perverted gropes you’re taking of his body and how he lets you. You keep feeling him, working your way to his soft inner-thigh. You can feel his dick twitching against your hand, but you refuse to touch him just yet. Reclaiming what’s yours, that’s all you’re doing.

“Touch me already,” you order against his lips.

“Yes ma’am,” he says.

You know that he’s taunting you but he slides his hand to the base of your neck to grip it. He bends his head to the crook of your neck and you press your head against the door, elongating it to give him more space. 

“You think I don’t know when you’re jealous?” he asks.

His lips are on the column of your neck, each word is ghosted over your clammy skin and you can feel the warmth of his breath.

You nod your head. Then you shake it. Then you start pulling at Anton’s leg while the other presses against his back to bring him closer.

He gets so close that he’s almost pressing into the door too. You hear it move in the frame, and you can feel Anton’s thigh come between your legs.

Anton’s hand briefly leaves your neck to go to your shoulder. He presses his hand down, pushing you down. He keeps pushing you, until you finally feel his solid leg pressed between yours. You immediately grind against him, and a pathetic sound slips through your lips when his hand goes back to your neck. 

Anton pulls away. He looks you in the face and your eyes are already watery, and you grind your hips in the smallest motion against him again. He kisses the tip of your nose, then your hot cheeks. He ends with placing a kiss on your forehead, smiling when he looks down at you.

“You’re so pent up you think you’d cum like this?” he asks. 

Before you can answer Anton pushes his own leg up. The random pressure makes you jolt, causing the door to move in its frame again. 

“Not jealous,” you push the words from the back of your throat as you apply more weight against his leg. “I don’t get jealous.”

He presses a kiss to the sensitive part of your neck. You tilt it to the side and try to bring him closer while your hips move slowly again.

“Not even when those girls were touching on me?” he asks.

You grind even harder against his thigh. You can’t tell if there’s something going on outside of your immediate senses. You think you feel yourself sliding down the door, you can feel your feet firmly planted into the ground. Anton is lower too, when he had to bend to kiss you it’s now you having to bend down to him. He kisses your neck hungrily, and a hand goes to your hips to keep guiding you back and forth. He forces your movements to be bigger. Tiny grinds that were just winding you up turns into something more languid. It feels too much like the real thing, especially after not having it for so long. 

“I was getting so jealous, you know.” Anton’s fingers slip underneath your shirt, fingertips pressing into your soft stomach. He makes you grind harder into his thigh. The feeling almost makes you forget what he was saying to you. You have to nod dumbly before moving your hands to his shoulders to focus. “I had to let you know how I was feeling,” he says.

“Jealous of what?” you ask.

“Everything,” he says casually.

Anton shrugs his shoulders like it’s nothing. You have to fight moving against the feeling of his leg between yours to refocus.

“Like what?” you ask.

Anton sighs and looks off to the side. He still guides your hips with his hand like it’s a mindless task he’s tending to. He looks back up at you with a smile on his face.

“The people you talked to in public,” his hand dips underneath your jeans to press fingers into your ass. He guides your hips by pushing on your soft skin. You can feel the force a little more while he thinks about it. “The people you were dancing with before you’d come see me.”

Anton laughs for a moment. You grip his shoulders and drop your head to his neck. You twist his undershirt in your hold when you feel that churn building in the pit of your stomach. 

“When it was really bad I was jealous of the food you’d eat and the music you’d listen to,” Anton’s voice is heavy and labored as he talks. “I was getting jealous thinking about what you were watching instead of watching me swim.”

You can’t bring yourself to say anything. You’e just letting out desperate whines into his neck and clawing lightly on his back.

“I just hide it better than you,” he says.

Only that brings you from your concupiscent stupor. You pull your head up from his neck, hands trailing up his body to grip at his hair harshly.

“Well I’m not throwing myself at a group of guys like a fucking whore,” you seethe.

“I had to do a little extra to make you feel the way I was feeling,” he says.

Suddenly you find yourself pushing at Anton’s broad shoulders. You engage your legs, working through the sore feeling to stand up fully. Anton looks up at you from the ground. On one knee it looks like he’s about to propose to you. Despite your lack of response he shows no remorse in his honesty, he almost seems happy as he looks up at you. 

“Go,” you point weakly to the couch behind him, swallowing the spit that gathered in your mouth and the shaky tone in your voice from grinding against his leg. “go to the couch,” you order.

Anton obeys immediately. He gets up from one knee but still faces you, watching you breathing heavy by his door. You follow him by mirroring each step. You’re slow, stalking him like prey while he’s walking like he’s baiting you in. 

His legs hit the back of the couch but you don’t stop. You get close until you’re chest to chest. One hand goes to your waist and the other goes to your chin, tilting your head up until you look at him. 

“I got you jealous, didn’t I?” he asks. 

Anton leaves the place on your hips to point at your face. That word sticks out in the most annoying way, nagging and constantly mentioned. When his finger stays in your face you smack it away. 

He only laughs. You push him until he’s sitting down on the couch.

“I knew it,” he says.

“Don’t make fun of me,” you chide.

“You deserve it,” he says.

Anton widens his legs. He’s splayed out for you, dick jumping in his pants. He’s inviting, despite what he may think he’s all yours. 

“I’ve suffered enough,” you say honestly.

You motion towards his undershirt. His hands that were resting on his thighs went to the bottom, grabbing the fabric. He only flicked the fabric up, making a part of his lower stomach bare. You can see his navel, you know where that vein on his stomach leads to. It disappears underneath the start of his pants.

“Take it off,” you say.

Anton leans slides from the back of the couch until he’s partially lying down on the cushions. He scoots a little closer to the end, until he can partially rest his head on the armrest. More of his shirt rides up from the movement. You can see the outline of his abs, flexing each time he moves.

“Make me,” he says.

You’re rough when you close the distance. Anton is lifting his hands preemptively, shirt riding up even higher. You pull the shirt up and over his head, tossing it somewhere. You have a knee on the couch beside his leg but you refuse to come closer. You create the distance so Anton has to look up at you. His hair is jostled from you taking off his shirt, brown strands layering across his forehead. Through his bangs he looks up at you, a playful glint in his brown eyes. You reach for his waistband next. You purposefully leave his boxers on but pull his pants off angrily. Anton is little to no help, only lifting his hips off the couch so you can pull at him again. The muscles underneath his skin tense and flex from all the movement.

He’s too beautiful. He’s Adonis on the couch, his legs are over the edge of the couch so you can sit next to him. You’re able to sit next to him and admire all of it. His hand goes behind his head on the couch and he settles in. Your hands run up and down his body, light as a feather. You go over his chest like a cross, going over the thin chain that hangs from his neck. You go across his nipples, pebbled from the attention and the cold air in his room. You go over the side of his body, strong and chiseled from swim before going right back to the vein on his lower stomach. You repeat it over and over again. Anton is still relaxed but he lets out a shaky breath. 

You don’t look up at him. Just seeing his body and remembering that other people were able to see it today makes heat flare in your chest. If you saw the face attached you’d vocalize it. You’d probably tell him he’s never allowed to go to a swim meet again or force him to delete and block that girls number. You’re determined to find a medium between what you’ve given Anton thus far and how you plan on carrying the relationship in the future.

“How’d you feel when you saw me talking to her?” Anton whispers. 

You can’t stop the tick. It’s a twitch in your jaw and the slight pause of your hand. The moment only lasts a second but Anton sees it, a smile on his face as he runs light fingers up and down your arms. You lean back on your haunches, feeling his hands go up to your shoulders before going back down. 

You refuse to answer. You just run your fingers over the thin red lines you left on his chest. 

“You know she’s not interested in me, right?” Anton’s hands are gentle going up and down your arms. He tilts his head to the side before his hands go to your head, patting your hair affectionately. “I’m not sure about the other girls but I can say for a fact she’s not into me.”

“She was in your apartment,” you say.

Anton’s eyes get wide. You were a little too harsh when you spoke. Instead of being breathy your words were firm. This was also your first time bringing up seeing the girl in his dorm. She had been so close to him during the meet and she saw you come to his dorm to confess.

Anton’s hands go down your arms to rest over your hands. He clasps your hands with his, and leans forward so he’s in your line of sight.

“She was coming over to talk about a leadership role on the team,” he says gently.

Anton sits up on the couch, fully propped up on his elbows to look at you. When he sees the pout you can’t stop he smiles.

“She thinks you’re nice by the way,” he says while leaning back. He settles against the armrest of the couch. “if only she knew.”

“That doesn’t matter,” you say.

You see Anton tilt his head to the side. He narrows his eyes. His hands go from your hands up to your forearms. He pulls you a little closer.

“What doesn’t matter?” he asks.

You come a little closer to him and run your hands over his stomach. The light red marks are still there, you touch him lighter. You tilt your head to match his, leaning into him a little more.  

“Doesn’t matter how bad someone else wants you if it belongs to me.”

Your confession was purposefully saccharine. You laid it on thick and worked through the cringe you felt prickling across your body. You felt sexy enough. You saw Anton twitch in his pants and he held your forearms a little tighter.

“What’s it?” he asks.

“You know,” you answer. 

Anton shakes his head.

“No,” he says, tapping on your forearms. “you gotta be a little more specific than that.”

“You know,” you said.

“I really don’t,” he says, laughing.

You said nothing, only focusing on unbuttoning the top of Anton’s jeans. You didn’t bother pushing the jeans further down than his mid-thigh. When you saw the bulge you stopped pushing the denim down, instead reaching your hand underneath his waistband to grab his dick. Anton wastes no time to buck into your hand, and you watch his muscles contract as he sits up on the couch. 

He props himself up on his elbow, with his other arm pressed between your body and the back of the couch just to keep a hand on the small of your back. When he moved his chain caught the light perfectly, reflecting slightly on his skin and yours. He was able to go underneath the bottom of your shirt to press into your back. When you pulsed your grip around his dick he pressed into your skin deeper.

“If I had known having girls as my friends would make you act like this,” he started.

The thought of Anton with other girls makes you squeeze your fist around him a little tighter. He tilts his head back, revealing his neck and underside of his chin. You can see the patch of light stubble he missed and his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. You repeat the motion just to see it again. His lips part and his head leans to the side, balanced against his elbow before he turns to look at you.

His euphoria is undeniable. His lip between his bottom teeth, his eyelids dropping low as he looks at you.

“I would’ve done all that sooner,” he finishes.

You have a firm grip on his dick, moving against the restriction of his underwear. You see his hands flex from the sensation, arms tensing where they’re propped to keep his body up.

“I would’ve danced with a girl at that warehouse,” he says.

You tease him where he’s most sensitive, rubbing precum with your thumb on the underside of his tip. You watch his hands tense as he tries to center himself. You increase the speed. His hips jerk the tiniest way into your hand. You like watching the pathetic movement and seeing his face mix with the pain of being teased and the euphoria of being touched.

You continue moving your hand, causing a protrusion in his boxers. You lean in close to Anton when you hear the wet sound of your rough handjob. Now it’s you tracing your nose along his sharp jawline. You go to his neck, tracing upwards and he thrusts into your fist.

“I wouldn’t let that happen,” you say. 

You suck on his earlobe and you follow after his head before he tilts it back to look at you. 

“You wouldn’t let that happen?” he asks.

You shake your head, going back to the teasing your thumb on his tip. He reacts instantly, a weak thrust as he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth.

Your hand that wasn’t fisting his dick scratched down his abs. You reveled in his reaction, feeling him adjust his hand on your back to push into you deeper.

“We wasted so much time,” you said quietly.

“You wasted so much time,” Anton clarified.

He hissed when you pressed your nails deeper on the drag down, leaving red streaks in their tracks. You sped up your hand too. Anton scooted down the mattress to get closer to you.

“So much time was wasted,” you rephrased.

The marks you left faded to a blush pink as your fingers moved further down. You kept going, focusing on your hands on his body instead of his face.

You made it to Anton’s boxers. You tucked your fingers underneath the cotton feeling them lock into place against his skin. His skin was hot from all the layers of clothes and the touching. You couldn’t stop yourself from taking one hand away to feel the rest of his body. He was so sculpted, every part of him showed discipline. You didn’t stop, tracing over the same pattern again and again. He was so soft too, you changed your touch from your fingernails to the pads of your fingers just to really feel him. 

You purposefully went lighter, the prodding turning to featherlight brushes. Anton was big but he was sensitive, skin jumping as he suppressed the urge to flinch away from the tickling. 

You were driven by his reactions. Anton was dedicated to the nonchalant demeanor as of late. He made out with you everyday until you were breathless but kept the same even tone, he let girls flirt with him while you were watching. He’s been so cool that seeing his body twitch away from you made you keep going. Your touches went even lighter, until you started to feel the tickle on the pads of your finger. The tiniest whimper had you looking to his face, and the same time your eyes widened he collected your hand with his wrist. 

You were held in place before you could trace your way back up his side. He was settled further into the couch, shoulders leaned against the armrest. 

“You were just talking about wasting time right?” he asked.

You nodded. You watched Anton’s hands go to his jeans that were still caught on his mid-thigh.

“Right,” you agreed.

You took your hand out of his boxers and began pulling them down. Anton was pulling his jeans down and you followed with his underwear. He also moved away from the couch, and you moved your legs to straddle his waist. You leaned your body forward to rest your head on his chest as you started taking your own pants off. The angle was awkward, both you and Anton were in the pursuit of wasting no more time that you both became clumsy. Your pants were caught on your ankles, you had to fully rest your body on his to get it off. Anton struggled against his jeans too, you heard the quick thrashing of him getting them fully off as you went back to straddling him.

You were desperate to waste no more time. You didn’t ask Anton to finger you, you even shook your head and smacked his hand away when he tried it. You were very serious about your foreplay. You saw the shocked look on Anton’s face when he moved his hand away from your pussy to instead hold your hips. You watched him get comfortable only for a second. You were sure his long legs were over the edge of the couch to accommodate his height.

“You sure?” he asked.

He looked so pretty underneath you. His dark was splayed against the dark cushion of his couch. He looked up to you with his eyes already blown out, but still so concerned with your pleasure. You were very serious about your foreplay. Anton was serious about yours too.

“I’m sure,” you said, nodding your head.

One hand balanced on his chest, right above his heart. Your other hand went between your two body’s. When you grabbed his dick in your hand you both gasped. There was something prickling in the air. Something felt new. Like it was the first time. You held his dick up straight and pulled in a breath, feeling the excitement tingle over your entire body. When you felt the tip prod you, your entire body tensed.

Anton’s thumbs started rubbing your waist gently. You felt each individual finger dimple your skin.

“Just relax,” he says carefully.

You nod again, bending your head so it’s facing away from him completely. You bite your lip and focus on the inside of your elbow. 

You let your hips sink. Anton’s body underneath your hand also stills. You can feel the intrusion, then the pressure when you get him inside. 

It’s like the first time again. You’re taken back to that first time you met him at the warehouse party and took him home. You two were in the same position then, after an hour of making out and messy foreplay. You didn’t know you’d be in this same position with him, with so much history behind it. Your walls close around him and it’s impossible to move further down. You pitifully pulse around just his tip and a little bit of his shaft, feeling like you’re already getting fucked.

“You got it baby,” he encourages. You hear the falter in his voice, when he has to pull in a sharp breath before the words crack. “you said it’s yours, right?”

“Yeah,” you answer.

You feel another inch inside of you. He presses against every part of you, and you can feel it deep. Anton’s fingers massage your hips, but you can feel quick moments of him holding you extremely tight.

“It’s all yours,” he repeats. “just gotta take it.”

You nod, still focusing on that part in your elbow. You press your teeth into your bottom lip, trying to take it.

“Look at me baby,” Anton says.

You put both hands on Anton’s chest and listen to what he said. You pull away from yourself to look down at him. 

He became wrecked in the small amount of time, cheeks fully flushed. You can tell his face is warm to the touch, and his own lip is red and swollen from being bit. You feel yourself loosen around him, all the want you’ve felt since Anton’s birthday helps your hips go further down.

Your hips can finally grind against his and Anton’s breathy words turn into a whimper. His fingers hold onto your hips rough. He guides your hips in the smallest motion back and forth. You grind against his waist, getting used to feeling him inside of you again. His lips are parted in ecstasy, you bring a hand to touch his cheek.

“I missed you,” you said quickly.

“I missed you too,” he says back immediately.

He feels so good inside of you. He fits inside like a puzzle piece. You already feel tears prickling your vision. You know Anton sees it, because his grip switches back to soothing circles. You can’t bring yourself to stop. He feels so good, even if you’re only moving your hips in the smallest motion. You need to feel him deep, you don’t think you find any pleasure in the speed or the roughness or the size. You just need to feel him pulse and press against your walls. The small moves you take is only supposed to prove that he’s inside.

“You know I’m not usually like this, right?” you ask.

You’re pleading with him to see your side of things. You should’ve been riding him for doing so good at his swim meet, or fucking him with a vengeance to get back at him for flirting with those girls. Whatever you were feeling fizzled into this, pathetic little whimpers and holding him for stability. 

You may have been immature before and you didn’t tell him how you felt but it’s not fair what he’s been doing to you. He’s been inconsiderate of your feelings, not understanding how it would make you feel to see him with all those girls. The attention he receives from people who aren’t you is unfair. 

You keep moving despite the burn in your legs. You were alternating between grinding and small little bounces, trying to get more. You don’t know what it is, but it’s not enough. Your hands go to Anton’s chest, your nails digging into his flesh.

“I’m not usually like this,” you repeat.

You’ve been desperate for Anton before, you’re sure of it. Times you’ve held him tight, times you’ve whimpered and said you needed more. There were times you begged Anton just for a touch, you’ve texted him before that you’ve needed to come over immediately. 

But this was unlike you to be grinding against him and refusing to even lift your hips because you just needed him to be inside. Your voice is so close to breaking you think if you lifted your hips you wouldn’t be able to stop the tears. You don’t know what you were close to crying about, you didn’t know why you were feeling everything so intensely. His body sways with yours from how much strength you put behind your hips.

“I know, I know,” Anton says honestly.

Before he brings a hand down on your ass you’re already pouting from him making fun of you. 

“I’m serious,” you lament.

Your hips move against Anton’s, you can feel his dick hitting deep. Each time you rotate your hips it’s like he touches something else. You can’t stop yourself from doing the motions, even if you need more to orgasm. 

You bite your lip and press a hand to Anton’s lower stomach to stabilize yourself. One of his hands leaves your ass to go over your hand, carding his fingers through the gaps.

“What’s on your mind?” he asks.

His voice is even, making you feel even more desperate. You rotate your hips the other way and a moan falls from your lips.

“I need it,” you moan.

“You’ve got it,” he says lowly. “you’re taking it.”

You shake your head and bend forward, until you’re chest to chest and your grinds against him barely do anything. 

“Need it in that way we did it one time,” you whimper.

Anton stills underneath you. His hand that was holding yours freezes. Everything about him is still and you get ready to explain in detail what you need.

“That time you said it was too much?” he asks.

You nod into the crook of Anton’s neck. Your moans are quiet just by knowing Anton remembers what you’re talking about.

“You sure?” he asks.

“Please,” you beg.

In the middle of another pathetic grind Anton stops your hips. You didn’t realize how weak you had become because he exerts almost nothing to stop you. 

He pushes his body up from the couch and your chests are touching. Then he moves you quick, where his feet are touching the ground and you’re still straddling him. 

“Not enough room,” he says simply.

There’s no teasing in his voice, only analytic. His arm wraps around your body and cages you closer to him. You’re almost satisfied with the closeness, you flick your hips again.

But you try to grind your hips again and he lifts you off the couch entirely. He’s still inside of you but the lack of stability forces an impatient whine. He presses a kiss to the side of your head over your hair, letting out a labored breath. You go to his neck and suck on the skin underneath his ear, you even press your teeth into him.

When he takes a step towards his room you shake your head. You know his soft springy mattress is too forgiving and would mitigate the strength you need to feel. You pull away from his neck, looking at the spit bead around the angry red mark. You look Anton right in the eyes, the brown almost lost to his blown out pupils. There’s no trace of playfulness. You feel like he is finally understanding the weight of your situation.

“Do it here, on the floor,” you say.

Anton readjusts you in his hold. You feel his dick pulse inside of you.

When you first started seeing Anton, he fucked like he had something to prove. Maybe it was your nonchalant attitude towards him or that you two only got together after a party. You thought he was determined to make you a part of his revolving list of hookups so he pulled out all of the stops. His energy was endless, endurance and strength lapped yours a hundred times over. He was pulling out positions you had never done before, prefacing everything with a shy this will feel good. 

You had seen him after a swim competition and you could tell he was trying to get something out of his system. He asked you to try something new in that innocent voice and you complied. Before you knew it your knees were bent to your chest while Anton pressed his weight into you. His arm was possessively wrapped around your ankle and your calves were pressed to his shoulder. The stretch, the strength, the way you couldn’t look away from him was too much. Everything about it was too intimate, and when Anton told you it was the best he’s ever felt you had to tap on his mattress to get him to stop. 

You need that right now. You need to be forced to look him in the eyes and have him unbelievably close, burning your legs from the stretch and hitting deep. Your body won’t settle for anything less. 

Anton finally understands. He lays you down on the ground and gets on top of you immediately. You relax your legs just to see Anton put you the way he wants. Just like the first time he grabs your ankles and settles between your legs. You feel his muscular legs cage you in, and the beginning of the stretch starts when he guides your legs to rest on his shoulders. Anton scoots closer and you know that this was what you needed. This wasn’t a want anymore but a necessity, you started clawing at Anton’s legs when he was taking too long.

“I need you, Anton.”

“You got me.” His hand reaches where you can’t see it, but you can feel the brush of his knuckles on your inner thigh. You can hear the wet sound of precum, you can feel some of it smearing across your skin. “I’m right here,” he whispers.

With each movement his chain dangles above you. The silver is almost mocking you, dangling above you like a taunt. You want to reach up and take it into your mouth. 

You feel him lining up again. You try to move further down but the position makes it pointless. Anton comes even closer, you feel your ass lift off the ground as he tilts your body up.

“Can’t you see how responsible I am?” he asks.

You’re lost in the throes of anticipation that your mind is hazy. Anton asked you a question. You blink and nod your head, thinking about responsibility.

Anton teases you, his dick pushing between your folds. You both twitch at the same time from the sensation, you let out a groan and Anton lets out a tiny whimper.

“We are so in tune with eachother,” he says. His tip nudges your clit again, then catches slightly on your hole. He’s so close to where you need him the most. “I know you can read me like a book too.”

“I try my best,” you say.

Tears are threatening to spill past your water line from being teased. You’re in this position, your body being curved unnaturally from Anton’s weight. He brings his body closer to you, making the stretch in your legs feel even more severe. You whine underneath the stretch, you know your walls are fluttering around nothing.

Anton doesn’t push into you any further. There’s a lack of air from the amount of want and the position you’re in. He looks down between the two of you, just watching how his dick nudges and catches on you.

“Give me another chance after all of this,” you whimper. “I just need you to help me get this out of my system.”

“All that jealousy?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you say, nodding. “all of it.”

“What about after this?” he asks.

“I’ll tell you how I’m feeling all the time,” you answer.

As if that was what Anton needed to hear, he slid inside instantly. The position and your wetness made it easy. He was sheathed, hips kissing your ass and your face instantly contorted from the pleasure. Anton closed his eyes tight, letting his head hand low before he looked at down at you again.

He pulls out all the way. You know he’s covered in you, and he leans even more into you. You see his hair fall slightly to look down at you. You mirror his expression, eyebrows knitting together in anticipation.

“Don’t hold back from me anymore.” Before you can reply he pushes all the way into you again. It’s the deepest you’ve ever felt him, like your body is trying to expel him but suck him in even deeper. He pulls out a little to push right back in and a gasp is punched out of your gut. “Hurts my feelings,” he says.

“I won’t,” you whimper. Your hands are pulling at his muscular arms in an attempt to get him closer. “please don’t stop.”

Anton nods and keeps going. The wet sound fills the room, bouncing off the couch right next to you both. The hard ground doesn’t yield, giving Anton the proper stability to plant his body to go deeper. His hand holds your shoulder to keep you from sliding.

The ground doesn’t even hurt. Your body is thrumming with every movement, feeling him consume you and give you what you need. Anton is consistent. He’s fucking you like he wants you to be here forever. You don’t want it to end, impatiently pulling at him and whimpering each time his pace falters.

You see the seat accumulating at his brow line. Your body’s are starting to stick together from all the sweat, you can feel your body leaving a sweaty imprint on his rug. Anton doesn’t stop, despite the burn he may feel and it makes your body reach that high again. Your hand goes to his cheek, pinching his soft skin.

“I love you,” you say.

The declaration hangs in the air. Anton stops, partially sheathed inside of you. His eyes focus blinking rapidly down at you. You don’t regret it. You nod when he says nothing in response, still rubbing his cheek gently.

“I really do,” you lament.

The moment of silence ends abruptly. Your legs fall from his shoulders to his waist, Anton comes all the way down until your pressed chest to chest. Your ass goes from being partially suspended in the air to pressed fully into the carpet. Anton wraps his arms around your body, pulling you impossibly closer to him. You feel the cold sweat on his chest and his hammering heartbeat.

Anton looks you right in the face. The tip of his nose touches yours, deep exhales fan across your face.

“I love you too,” he says.

Anton immediately resumes the brutal pace. You’re sliding across the covers now, held in Anton’s arms and feeling it all. Not only dos he pulse inside of you but his entire body ripples against you, muscles contracting as he gives you everything. You hear his legs moving against the carpet. He changes between fucking you forward, pulling you back, and pulling you up into him. 

You’re just as lost. The sounds you make are pathetic and feral. Whimpers that are cut off from a fast thrust, a moan that’s loud and prolonged when it’s deep. You can’t control anything, only digging your nails into your back to keep him there.

“Feels so good,” Anton whimpers. His voice has changed. It’s weak but firm, like everything in him has to get the words out no matter what. You nod against his head, finally feeling the warm tears slide down your face. You feel something wet against your cheek too, and when Anton sniffles between another moan you know what it is.

You pull Anton away from your neck by a gentle handful of his hair. Although it’s awful to not have every part of him pressed into you, you need to see his face. He’s reluctant only for a second, but then he presses his forehead into yours. You look into his teary eyes and he does it back. You both sniffle at the same time before Anton presses his lips to yours. The chaste kisses become carnal quick. Your tongues touch after you both push them past your lips. It’s messy, the wet muscle going over teeth and overlining lips before they find their way back. You’re tilting your head and Anton does the same. You are already running out of breath, feeding off of the euphoria of being so close. 

Anton’s devolve to rutting. Your moans are cut off abruptly, and you can feel your walls spasming around him. 

“I’m so close,” you whimper between kisses.

Anton nods and breaks apart.

“Me too,” he wedges a hand between your two body’s and instantly goes to your clit. Your body twitches against his. immediately, and you know you’re leaving terrible marks on his back. “cum with me baby, please,” he begs.

There’s nothing you can do after he asks. His fingers were moving perfect circles between his thrusts, and he was pressing against your walls more intensely. Everything was magnified, his body against yours, the sweat, the movement, the kissing, his cold chain against your skin. You couldn’t have resisted even if you wanted to. You brought him closer just to feel the weight of his body against yours, and your entire body was releasing at once. You felt the climax, mouth opening to let out loud moans. Anton did the same, pulling apart slightly to drive into you the last few times before stilling. His breathy moans were louder than yours, and he was holding tight to any part of your body he could touch. You let it happen, the coil that snapped seemed to twist even tighter before snapping again.

Your sounds eventually subsided. Anton was still letting out breathy whimpers, almost sounding pained from how good it felt.

Even after he finishes he stays in. Each twitch of his dick is twinned by your walls pulsing around him. You feel another spurt and can feel yourself gush around him again. Even with him inside it leaks. You can feel the mess web between your thighs and his balls. The stickiness doesn’t deter either of you. Anton lets your legs fall in a more comfortable way, sliding from the hold of his weight. There’s a shudder through your body, and you can feel more of you and Anton seep from you.

He kisses you with the same fervor as before. The orgasm was spent with you too moaning in eachothers mouths, whining loudly and swapping spit. Anton’s whiny moans got quieter, but were still prominent each time you pulsed around him.

“That’s what you needed, right?” he asked.

Anton looks at you sincerely. You can see the  skepticism. He has the same somber look that you used to ignore before shutting him out. You know it was the heat of the moment, you know that Anton knows you have the habit of getting sentimental when you’re close.

The flighty feeling is gone. You’re grounded, despite Anton partially lifting his weight off of you and instead using a forearm beside your head to hold himself up. 

“You know after this if you pretend like I don’t exist after, I’ll actually move on this time,” he says.

You hold his face with both of your hands.

“I meant everything I said,” you say, not breaking eye contact. “I really won’t hold back anymore. I’ll tell you how I’m feeling all the time.”

“You really want me around?” he asks. He holds your cheek gently, rubbing a thumb over your skin. “Not just for this?”

“I want it all,” you say. “I’m sorry I wasn’t upfront about that before.”

“I want it too,” he says. “I always have.”

There’s a moment of silence. Anton plays with your hand before putting it to his chest. His heart is beating like a drum.

“So I guess I’ll be seeing you around then?” you ask.

You chuckle against his chest. You don’t know why hearing him say it like that is so funny.

“I’ll be seeing you around too,” he says back.

[meltoning]

redoing my layout feels like a humiliation ritual #Bye

[meltoning]

RULES & GUIDELINES !

FIRST AND FOREMOST, i'm here to write for ot6 and i support seunghan as a soloist - do not come here in search of fics for ot7.

as i've said in my personal description, because i'm not active, i won't be actively on the lookout for invalid (ageless) blogs, but i will block when necessary.

my works will only be focused for fem!readers. on another note...

DO NOT INTERACT . . . MINORS, ists/phobics, antis of the groups i stan, etc. y'know the deal.

WHAT I WON'T WRITE . . . sub!idol (i might dabble in the future with switch!idol though), m!reader, scat, age play, anything illegal, pegging, noncon, dubcon, abuse, specific descs (hair, skin color, body type, etc.), incels, any cests, omegaverse, body fluids (besides spit, cum and squirting), stalker!idol or anything in that sense? sad/ambiguous endings lol! i like my happy endings so dw <3

more will be added in the future once i remember, but this is the general gist.

[meltoning]

i giggled

[meltoning]

every1 thank you sm for the 2k+ likes omg.

[meltoning]

i usually hc anton as a dom in my #Mind but recently idk i've been wanting to write him as a sub/switch like waaaaaait.....!

[antontual]

[meltoning]

okay i don't wanna keep everyone in the dark so i'm gonna reveal my (current) wips heh 😼

royal au: prince!anton x princess!reader

college au: swimmer bf!anton x gf!reader

neighor au w/ eunseok

20s au: detective!anton x rich socialite!reader (subject to change but we'll see!!!)

and yea!

[meltoning]

my long (unfinished) anton fic has been sitting in the dust since last summer bye.

[meltoning]

i think the writing juices are tingling hold onnn

[meltoning]

guys im still around I SWEARRR

[guliexe]

━━━FOUR EYES 18+

Nerd!Lee Anton x Female!Reader — University AU

.ᐟwarnings/tags: nerd/weeb!anton, dom!anton, shy!anton, he is a nervous mess, fluff, praising, dirty talk, making out, anton is a bit subby at first but turns into a dom, size kink?, grinding, fingering, unprotected sex, spanking, p in v, bulge kink, squirting, cum eating, aftercare

𓏸⠀ 𓈒 you fall for anton, the quiet nerd who looks at you like you’re his whole world—and shows you exactly what that means behind closed doors.

.ᐟwc: 11.5k

You weren’t proud of it. The way your eyes always found him the second you walked into class, the way your heart sped up at the mere sight of those glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose, how you kept catching yourself doodling his name in your notes like some middle school girl with a first crush. Lee Anton.

He was handsome, almost unfairly so. Tall and broad-shouldered, with soft brown eyes that flicked nervously around the room when someone tried to talk to him, and the most angelic face. His dark hair always looked a little too perfect, like he’d just rolled out of bed and still managed to look better than everyone else. And then there was the way he dressed, plain hoodies, oversized sweaters, jeans that hung low on his hips like he didn’t even care, like he had no idea what he looked like. Which made it worse.

Because Anton was also…a nerd. A real, honest-to-god, anime watching, figurine collecting, jerking off to hentai nerd. You knew this because you’d seen the way he decorated his laptop with holographic stickers of anime girls, the kind with thigh-highs and jiggly boobs and sparkly eyes. His phone lock screen? Ahri from League of Legends. His bag? Covered in pins of little anime mascots and game logos. You’d heard the rumors too, that his dorm was basically a shrine to 2D girls. Shelves of figures, walls lined with posters, LED lights glowing purple like a teenage boy’s wet dream. And yet none of it made you like him less. If anything, it made your crush worse.

Maybe it was because he was so quiet. Always sitting in the back, earbuds in, sketching something in his notebook or scrolling on his phone, head ducked down behind the collar of his hoodie like he didn’t want to be perceived. And yet you always perceived him. You noticed him. The way he adjusted his glasses when he was concentrating. The way his fingers tapped against his thigh when he was bored. The way he blushed when the professor called on him, even though he always gave the smartest answers in the room. You’d never spoken to him. Not once. But that didn’t stop you from wondering what his voice would sound like if he said your name.

It wasn’t just a little crush anymore. It was a full-blown obsession. The kind that made your stomach flip whenever you spotted him walking down the hallway, hands stuffed in his hoodie pocket, headphones around his neck, backpack hanging low on those broad ass shoulders. God. He was so tall. Every time he stood up, you felt like the air shifted around him. Like he didn’t even realize how dreamy he looked, towering over everyone, glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose while he blinked all soft and sleepy. It was so unfair. He looked like he belonged in an anime himself—tall, quiet, hot nerd that girls fight over. Except no one else seemed to be crushing on him. At least not the way you were. And that made it worse.

Because you were crushing hard. Pathetically hard. You thought about him too much, not just during class, but when you were alone in your bed at night, staring at the ceiling and wondering what kind of porn he watched. You probably knew the answer was anime girls with squeaky voices and thigh socks, and honestly? That only made him hotter. You loved that he was a nerd. You loved that he probably spent his Friday nights watching One Piece recaps or arguing on valorant with noobs. You loved that his fingers looked big and awkward when he fidgeted with the pins on his bag, those same fingers you thought about every time your thoughts drifted somewhere a little too dirty.

He was just so fucking cute. Too hot. And maybe it was bad, maybe you were going to hell or something, but there were moments where you looked at him and just thought ‘I want to bounce on your dick so bad it’s embarrassing’. And then you’d get flustered all over again. Heart pounding, thighs pressing together, face buried in your sleeve so no one could see how red you’d gotten. He’d just be sitting there, minding his business, adjusting his glasses with the tip of his finger, and you’d be staring at him like he was some kind of god. He had no idea. Absolutely no clue that you were slowly losing your mind over him from across the room.

You barely register what the professor is saying until you hear the words: “Partner project. Two people per group. If you don’t pick someone, I’ll assign you.” Your stomach sinks. You didn’t know anyone in this class, not well enough to pair up without looking like a weirdo, anyway. You shift nervously in your seat, clutching your pen like it’ll save you. You can already feel your cheeks heating up just from the pressure. “Alright, you and…Anton,” the professor says, glancing briefly between the two of you before moving on. “You’ll work together. Should be a good match.” You freeze. Your eyes flick behind you, and sure enough, there he is. Anton.

He’s blinking at you with wide eyes, clearly just as surprised as you are. His glasses are slightly crooked, lips parted like he wants to say something but can’t quite get there. You feel your heart stutter in your chest. This is real. You’re going to talk to him. Work with him. Be around him. Alone. You turn in your seat slowly, like any sudden movement might shatter the moment. “H-Hi,” you manage, voice soft and squeaky. “I guess we’re partners.” Anton sits up a little straighter, and you swear you see his fingers twitch on the edge of his desk. “Oh. Uh. Yeah. I guess we are.” He rubs the back of his neck, then smiles, small, nervous. “Hi.”

Up close, he’s even more handsome. Long lashes, flushed cheeks, that faint scent of clean laundry and something warm and boyish. He’s wearing a plain gray hoodie, sleeves pushed up to his forearms, and you have to fight the urge to stare at the veins in his hands. “I’m, um…” You tuck your hair behind your ear, trying not to melt. “I’m Y/N.”“I know,” he says quickly, too quickly. Then he winces. “I mean—not in, like, a creepy way. I’ve just…heard you answer a few questions in class before. You’re smart.” Your mouth goes dry. He knows who you are? You blink. “Oh. Wow. Thanks. That’s… really sweet.” You shift in your seat, fingers nervously playing with the hem of your sleeve. “You’re smart too. Like, really smart. Your notes are insane.”

He laughs under his breath and ducks his head, and you can barely hear him murmur,“That’s ‘cause I don’t talk to anyone. I have to overcompensate somehow…” You giggle quietly, shyly. He glances up at you again. And that’s when it happens. That flicker. That look. His eyes settle on your face, your lips, your eyes, just a little longer than normal. He swallows hard. “Sorry, I just…didn’t expect to be partnered with someone like…you.” You tilt your head. “Like me?” He hesitates. “You’re just…you’re really pretty.” Oh. Your brain short circuits.

“I—” You practically squeak. “You think I’m pretty?” He immediately looks away, ears turning red. “Was that weird? That was weird. I’m sorry.” “No!” you blurt, too fast, clutching your notebook to your chest. “No, it wasn’t. I…I think you’re…really cute too.” He stares. You stare. There’s a beat of silence where neither of you knows what to do. You’re both blushing, both shy, both clearly freaking out a little on the inside. “So,” he finally says, voice a little higher than before, “uh…where’d you wanna meet?”

You show up to the little café fifteen minutes early, heart racing and dress just a little shorter than it probably should be for a study session. But you’d spent so long picking it out. It hugged your waist and flared out right at your thighs, showing just enough skin to make you feel cute without trying too hard. When Anton walks in, you swear he almost drops his phone. He freezes in the doorway for half a second, blinking like he’s not sure he’s in the right place. Then his eyes land on you, and you see him double take. His gaze flicks down your body and then quickly jerks away, like he’s trying not to look. He shuffles over, clutching his backpack in front of him like a shield, and offers you a shy little smile as he sits down across from you. “H-Hey. You look…really nice.”

You blush instantly. “Thanks. You too.” You both stare at the table for a second. It’s a cozy café, low lighting, indie music playing softly, warm smells of coffee and pastries filling the air. You open your laptop with trembling fingers, trying to seem normal, like this is just a regular study session and not the hottest guy you’ve ever seen sitting right across from you. You pull up the project doc and smile nervously. “Okay, so…I was thinking we could start with the outline first? Just, like, divide the sections and go from there.” You glance up to see if he’s following, but he’s not.

Anton’s eyes are very much not on the screen. They’re a little lower. Right at your chest. You freeze. So does he. And then, like a switch flipped, his entire face erupts in red. “I—” He stammers, scrambling to sit up straighter and look anywhere else. “Sorry! I wasn’t—I didn’t mean to—I just zoned out—”Your cheeks burn. You look down at your dress and then quickly cross your arms over your chest, suddenly very aware of how low-cut it actually is when you’re leaning forward. You clear your throat, voice tiny. “…It’s okay.” He still looks like he wants to crawl into a hole and die.

His hand comes up to adjust his glasses, but he’s shaking so hard he nearly knocks them off his face. You try to pretend you’re not just as flustered. You tuck your hair behind your ear and murmur softly, “So…should I repeat the question?” His eyes flick up to yours, hesitant. Then he gives the smallest, most adorable nod. You swallow, voice even softer now. “I said…should we start with the outline?” He nods again, still flushed, but smiling this time, a shy, crooked smile that makes your heart flutter. “Yeah. Let’s do that.” You try to focus. You really do. But his hand is brushing against his notebook, and his knees are so long they almost bump yours under the table. And every few minutes, you catch him sneaking glances at you like he can’t help it. And you don’t blame him. You kind of want him to.

You’re halfway through outlining the second section of the project when Anton suddenly stands up. “I’m, uh—I’m gonna get something. Do you want anything?”You glance up, smiling sweetly. “Mm…maybe a milkshake? If they have one?” He nods, “Milkshake. Got it.” He hurries off like he needs the walk to breathe, and honestly, he probably does. You watch him go with a soft little smile, noticing the way his hoodie sways as he moves, the curve of his back, the way he ducks his head at the counter, shy even with the barista. When he returns, he’s carrying a milkshake in one hand and a warm latte in the other, balancing it all carefully on a tray. He sets it down gently in front of you, then passes you the cold drink with a soft, slightly nervous look. “Here you go.” Your smile widens. “Thank you, Anton.”

You don’t notice the way his throat bobs when you wrap your lips around the straw. He freezes, barely blinking as he watches you take that first long sip, lips pursed around the plastic, cheeks hollowing slightly. You let out a soft little hum of approval at the taste, eyes fluttering shut for a second in pure satisfaction. And Anton…Anton is dying. His brain short-circuits. All he can see is your lips, pink, wet, soft, wrapped around something that isn’t a straw. And for a second, he’s imagining you on your knees between his legs, looking up at him with that same innocent expression as you suck him off like you don’t even realize what you’re doing to him.

You pull the straw from your mouth and swipe your tongue across the tip to catch the foam. A tiny bit of it clings to the corner of your lips. You giggle quietly. “Oops.” And then, as if you don’t already have him on the brink of death, you lick it off with a slow, casual flick of your tongue. He nearly chokes on his own spit. “Is everything okay?” Your voice is gentle, head tilted with that same soft concern you’ve had since class. You blink at him sweetly, sipping again like nothing happened. He’s flushed deep red. His hands are gripping his cup like it might ground him to reality. He forces a smile, eyes flicking up to meet yours. “Uh. Y-Yeah. All good.” Then, quieter, with a softer smile. “Just… distracted.” You giggle again, eyes sparkling. “You sure?” He swallows hard. “Very sure.” But he can’t stop looking at your lips.

You take another slow sip of the milkshake, eyes flicking back to the laptop screen. Anton’s leaned in now, typing something into the shared document, brows furrowed in concentration, completely unaware of what he’s doing to you just by existing. Your gaze drifts. It always does. The sleeves of his hoodie are pushed up, revealing his forearms, all lean muscle and light veins, the skin pale and soft looking. Your eyes trail downward, to his hands on the keyboard, long fingers flying over the keys quickly. His hands are big. You hadn’t noticed it before. Or maybe you had, and your brain had just stored it away for later.

Now it was all you could think about. Those fingers. Those veins. The way his knuckles flex with every tap. You imagine them wrapped around your throat, firm but careful, his breath stuttering while he watches your eyes roll back. Or worse—better—you picture them inside you, slow and deep, your thighs trembling as he curls them just right, testing what makes you whimper. The idea makes you shift in your seat, thighs instinctively pressing together beneath the table. You blink and glance up at his face. God.

Even his profile is hot. His jaw is sharp, lips a little parted, the tip of his tongue just barely peeking out as he concentrates. His Adam’s apple bobs slightly when he swallows, and it makes something tighten in your gut. His hair is messy and soft, curling a little behind his ears, and all you can think about is how it would feel to tug on it while he’s between your legs. You press your thighs together again, harder this time. And he has no idea.

He’s just typing, all innocent and focused, while your mind is playing out filthy scenes in 4K. You look back down at his hands again, biting your lip without realizing it. His fingers twitch slightly as he types a number into the doc, the tendons in his hand flexing.

You whisper to yourself inside your head, ‘I want those fingers in me so bad’. And just like that, you realize you’re no better than him. Maybe you look sweet, sipping your milkshake in your little dress and smiling all shyly, but deep down? You’re starving for him.

You want him to ruin you with those hands, want to ride his thigh, want to hear what he sounds like when he moans. You glance up again. He’s blushing faintly, chewing on the inside of his cheek. You wonder if he’s thinking something dirty too, if maybe both of you are pretending to be normal while your thoughts are a mess. God, you hope so.

The project was technically done. Or at least, enough of it was done to call it a night. You both packed up slowly, lingering over every click of the laptop, every sip of your drinks, drawing it out like neither of you wanted to leave. The café was dimmer now, a few tables empty, the music quieter. When you finally stepped outside, the air was warm and gentle, the sky a dusky blue stretching wide. You walked side by side down the path toward the dorm buildings, your shoulder bag bouncing lightly against your hip, Anton’s long strides matching yours.

And yet neither of you spoke. There were little things, small glances, quiet smiles, an occasional “mm” when one of you pointed out something with a nod. But for the most part, the silence between you was soft. Comfortable. Tense in all the right ways. And then your hands almost touched. You both noticed it at the same time, that inch of space between his knuckles and yours. He was walking close, so close, his fingers slightly curled inward, yours swinging just a little too far to the left. When your pinkies brushed, you felt it like static. He flinched. So did you.

And when you both glanced at each other, eyes wide and startled, it was like being caught doing something scandalous. His cheeks were red. He laughed nervously under his breath, rubbing the back of his neck like he didn’t know what to do with himself. You ducked your head, smiling softly. By the time you reached your building, your heart was fluttering like crazy. You stopped at the bottom of the steps, turning to face him.

He looked even taller under the glow of the porch light. His hoodie was a little rumpled, hair tousled, glasses slipping down just slightly. He looked so effortlessly handsome and completely flustered, like he couldn’t believe he’d just spent two hours alone with you and somehow survived it. You swallowed, clutching your bag a little tighter. “…Thank you,” you said softly. His brows furrowed, confused but gentle. “For what?” You smiled shyly. “The milkshake.” Anton blinked. And then smiled, this soft, melted kind of smile, like you’d just said the sweetest thing in the world. “Oh. Yeah. Anytime.”

You hesitated for a second. And then, before you could overthink it, you leaned forward and wrapped your arms around him. His body froze. Completely still. You could feel the heat radiating off of him, the way his arms hung awkwardly at his sides like he didn’t know what to do. But then, after a second, he slowly brought them up and wrapped them around your waist gently, almost nervously, like he was scared he’d hurt you if he squeezed too tight.

His face was buried half in your hair, half in your shoulder, and you felt the shaky breath he let out. You pulled back just a little, just enough to meet his eyes. Both of you were red. Both of you smiling, small, breathless, bashful smiles. “…Goodnight, Anton.” He blinked like he was waking up from a dream.“G-Goodnight.” You turned and walked into the dorm building, heart pounding, fingers still tingling from the ghost of his touch. And behind you, Anton stood frozen in place for a good thirty seconds, like his brain had fully shut down.

You spot him as soon as you walk into the lecture hall. Anton, sitting alone near the middle, headphones on, bobbing his head faintly to whatever song he’s listening to. His laptop is open in front of him, but from the way his fingers tap lightly against the keyboard, you doubt he’s doing anything academic. Your stomach does that little nervous flip again. You stand there for a moment, working up the courage, then step forward and gently tap his shoulder.

He turns, pulling one side of his headphones down, and when he sees you, there’s this flicker of surprise followed by a quick flush of pink across his cheeks. “H-Hey…” he says, voice softer than you expected. You smile shyly. “Hey, Anton.” There’s a beat of silence where you just look at each other, and you swear you catch him glancing at your lips before quickly looking away. You shift your bag strap on your shoulder and try to sound casual, even though your voice comes out a little too nervous. “My friend didn’t come today, so…do you wanna…sit with me? Maybe?”

His eyes widen a fraction, and he blinks like you just asked him to solve a math problem in front of the whole class. “Uh—y-yeah, sure! Of course!” The words come out in a rush, and the pink in his cheeks deepens. You grin, and when he stands to follow you, he fumbles a little with unplugging his headphones and gathering his stuff, as if he’s suddenly hyperaware of every move he’s making. By the time you both settle into seats together, there’s a faint awkwardness in the air, not bad awkward, but the kind that makes your pulse race and your knees bounce under the desk.

The professor starts droning on at the front of the room, the scratch of pens and the faint clicking of laptop keys filling the air. You sneak a sideways glance at Anton, the way his hoodie sleeves are pushed up, his hair slightly messy, his glasses slipping a little down the bridge of his nose. You lean in just a bit, lowering your voice to a whisper. “You look good today, Anton.” He freezes mid-typing, fingers hovering over the keys. Slowly, he turns his head toward you, eyes wide behind his lenses. The blush is instant, creeping up from his cheeks to the tips of his ears.

“Oh—uh… thanks,” he murmurs, voice cracking slightly before he clears his throat. Then, after a pause, he adds quietly, “You… you look good too.” The corners of your mouth lift into a shy smile, and for a moment, neither of you look at the professor, just each other. You both face forward again, but a minute later, you notice him stealing a quick glance at you from the corner of his eye. You bite your lip, leaning closer again. “What?” you ask softly, smiling.

He shakes his head quickly, the blush still there. “Nothing… just—you’re distracting.” You blink, startled, before letting out a soft laugh. “Distracting how?” His jaw tenses like he instantly regrets saying it. “Just…distracting.” he says again, almost shyly pouting, and turns back to his screen, though you can see the tips of his ears still red.

The lecture finally wraps up, chairs scraping against the floor as students start to file out. Anton closes his laptop with a quiet click, slipping it into his bag. You tuck your pen into your notebook, fingers fidgeting a little before you work up the courage to speak. “You heading out?” you ask softly, glancing at him through your lashes, heat blooming in your cheeks.

“Uh—yeah,” he says, voice low, almost unsure, like he wasn’t expecting you to talk to him first. You stand, swinging your bag over your shoulder. “Cool,” you say with a small, shy smile. “We can walk together…if you want.” For a second, he just looks at you, like the words took a moment to process. Then he nods quickly, lips twitching into a faint smile. “Y-yeah, yeah, sure.”

The two of you fall into step as you leave the classroom, the low hum of voices around you fading the moment you step outside into the crisp air. You walk side by side, the afternoon sun spilling gold across the pavement. Your shoulder nearly brushes his, and you catch yourself smiling before you even realize it. “So…” you say, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye, “distracting, huh?”

Anton’s head snaps toward you, eyes widening. “Wha—I—” He stumbles over his words, his ears already turning pink. “I didn’t mean—I mean, I wasn’t—” You bite back a grin, pretending to look ahead. “Relax, I’m teasing.” He huffs a quiet laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’re…uh…good at that.” Your smile softens. “Teasing you?” His gaze flickers to yours for half a second before dropping to the ground. “Yeah…that.”

You walk a few steps in silence, the kind that feels warm rather than awkward. “So…” you murmur, glancing up at him with a playful smile, “do you always get that flustered, or is it just when I’m around?” Anton’s blush deepens instantly. “Uh…maybe just when you’re around.” You bite your lip to hide a grin. “That’s cute.” He looks away, shoving one hand into his pocket. “Not sure that’s the word I’d use.”

“What word would you use, then?” you ask, tilting your head. His lips twitch like he’s fighting a smile. “Dangerous.” You blink at him, surprised. “Dangerous?” He shrugs, finally daring to meet your eyes again. “You make it hard to think straight.” Your stomach flips, and you quickly glance away before he can see just how much that got to you.

By the time you reach the dorm building, your pulse has settled into a strange mix of calm and nervous excitement. The late afternoon light makes the air feel softer somehow. Anton stops with you in front of the entrance. “So…I’ll see you tomorrow?” he asks, his voice a little uncertain, like he’s not ready for this to end. “Yeah,” you say with a smile. “Thanks for walking me.”

Before you can overthink it, you shift up onto your tippy toes, your hand lightly brushing his arm for balance, and press a quick kiss to his cheek. You hear his breath catch, feel him go still for just a heartbeat before you pull away. When you step back, his cheeks are flushed a deep pink, his gaze flicking down to yours like he’s still processing what happened. You’re blushing just as hard. “Um…bye, Anton.” “B-bye,” he says, his voice low and almost dazed, watching you slip inside.

Anton stood there for a moment, staring at the glass doors you’d just walked through. His cheek still tingled faintly, the ghost of your lips lingering like it was branded there. He exhaled, running a hand over the spot, almost like he needed to confirm it actually happened. 'She kissed me'.

The thought looped in his head, each time making his stomach twist in the best way. He’d been kissed before—well… sort of, but never like that. Never so soft and sweet and completely unexpected. He caught himself smiling, then quickly shoved his hands into his pockets and started back toward his own dorm. His heart was still racing, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t stop thinking about how small your hand felt against his arm and how close your lips had been to his own.

The lecture was dragging, the professor’s voice a low drone in the background. You were scribbling down notes, leaning just slightly closer to Anton so you could peek at his laptop screen. He shifted in his seat, leaning toward you to point out a line in the slide you’d missed. As he did, his shoulder brushed yours, and he froze for half a second before murmuring, almost to himself, “You smell nice.”

Your pen paused mid-word. Heat rushed straight to your cheeks, and you turned your head to look at him. He was already back to staring at his screen, ears tinted pink like he hadn’t even realized what he’d said until it was too late. “...Thanks,” you whispered, smiling down at your notebook. You didn’t get much else written for the rest of the lecture.

Over the next couple of weeks, it became a quiet routine—finding each other before lectures, walking side by side to the café between classes, sharing fries at the food place near the uni while pretending not to notice how often your knees brushed under the table.

Sometimes it was a lingering glance over the rim of a coffee cup, sometimes a shy compliment slipped into the conversation when you thought the other wasn’t listening. Each time, it left you both smiling to yourselves for hours after.

One afternoon, as everyone was packing up after a lecture, you let out a small groan. “I forgot to write half the stuff from today,” you mumbled, shoving your notebook into your bag. Anton looked over from where he was closing his laptop. “Don’t worry. Gimme your number, I’ll send you my notes.”

You perked up instantly. “Really? Thank you so much, Toni!” The nickname rolled off your tongue so naturally that you didn’t even think about it until his ears flushed pink. Before he could react, you rocked up and ruffled his soft hair playfully.

“See you later!” you chirped, turning to leave.He stayed rooted in place, blinking after you like his brain had shut off. His cheeks were burning, half from the nickname, half from the unexpected warmth of your hand in his hair. And, god help him, he swore his jeans felt just a little tighter than they had a moment ago.

Anton

here are the notes :)

You

thanks so much toni! you’re a lifesaver

Anton

no problem :) i didn’t do much

You

you always do more than you think :3

Anton

haha…maybe :)

You

wanna grab a coffee after class tomorrow?

Anton

sure :) that sounds good

You

yay! i’ll see you then

Anton

looking forward to it :)

You slide into the chair across from Anton at the café, the smell of coffee and pastries wrapping around you. He sets his keys on the table as he takes out his wallet, and your eyes catch something dangling from the keyring. A tiny, metal Calcifer keychain. “Oh my god!” you exclaim softly, leaning a little closer. “Is that…Calcifer from Howl’s Moving Castle?” He freezes mid-motion, eyebrows shooting up. “Uh…yeah. You…you know that movie?”

You grin, trying not to squeal. “Love it! It’s one of my favorites!” He blinks at you, clearly surprised, adjusting his glasses. “…Wait. I didn’t know you liked anime.” You tilt your head, smirking slightly. “You never asked.” He chuckles softly, still a little flustered, and the conversation drifts naturally into talking about favorite scenes, characters, and little movie details. You laugh together, the atmosphere cozy and easy.

As the hangout winds down and you both finish your drinks, he fidgets slightly, looking down at the table, then up at you with a soft, shy smile. “Uh…so…you—if you want…maybe…you could come over sometime? Watch it…with me?” You freeze for a second, cheeks warming, before letting out a small, happy laugh. “I’d love that.” His relief is obvious, he lets out a quiet breath, smiling sheepishly. The flutter of excitement between you both feels electric.

“Uh…you can…come over tonight, if you want.” he says softly, voice barely above a murmur. Your heart skips a beat and warmth floods your cheeks. You bite your lip for a second, trying to play it cool, before smiling brightly. “Mhm! Tonight it is, then.” you say, the words coming out a little breathless, but cheerful. He blinks at you, clearly caught off guard by how naturally you accepted, and his ears tint pink. A small, shy smile tugs at the corners of his lips.

Anton told you to meet at 8pm. You glance down at your outfit one last time—shorts and a cozy sweater, nothing fancy, just casual. Your stomach twists with nerves. Taking a deep breath, you knock on Anton’s door. The second it opens, your breath catches. He’s…stunning. Damp hair clings slightly to his forehead from a recent shower, his pyjama pants hanging low on his hips, the white shirt stretched perfectly over broad shoulders.

He looks effortlessly perfect, and you realize you’ve been staring before you even noticed. Anton clears his throat, probably aware of the way your eyes linger. He scratches the back of his neck, cheeks already pink, like he’s caught in some awkward but very sexy moment. “Uh…hey.” he mutters, voice low and rougher than usual.

“Hey.” you manage, trying to force a casual smile, though your heart is racing and your palms feel hot. You can’t stop yourself from stealing another glance at him, and he seems to notice, quickly looking away with a small, flustered laugh. The room smells faintly of his shampoo, warm and inviting, and your nerves are suddenly tingling in a very different way.

You step into Anton’s room, eyes widening as you take it all in. Posters of anime and game characters cover the walls—some cute, some daring, and many of the girls featured have big tits and barely any clothes. Shelves lined with figurines catch the soft glow from the warm lights he has set up around the room, and a few of the figurines are equally risqué. A few plants sit on the windowsill, adding a touch of life to the space.

Despite all the decorations, the room is surprisingly tidy. Everything has its place, and it feels…comfortable, inviting. “Wow…I like your room,” you say softly, cheeks heating as you glance around. Anton shifts slightly, scratching the back of his neck, a shy smile tugging at his lips. “Thanks…I, uh…like to keep it cozy, I guess.”

You nod, still looking around, letting your gaze linger on the little details—the way some posters are slightly angled, the neat lineup of figurines, the LED light spilling across the floor. The room feels like him. Nerdy, thoughtful, and warm all at once. He watches you quietly, clearly noticing how absorbed you are, and feels a little thrill at how easily your eyes wander over his space.

You curl up on Anton’s bed, leaning against the wall as he sits cross-legged a little distance from you. It feels like you’re in a little world of your own. As the opening scenes of Howl’s Moving Castle play, you find yourself inching slightly closer to him. He glances at you, those soft brown eyes catching yours, and his cheeks pink. You notice how easily your knee brushes his, and your heart flutters.

At one point, the remote slides off the bed, landing on the floor with a soft thud. “Oops! I got it.” you say, bending over to pick it up. Anton’s breath catches. Your shorts ride up just enough that your ass is completely in his view, and he instantly curses under his breath, voice low and rough, fuck…

When you sit back up, you hold the remote triumphantly and smile up at him. “Got it!” you chirp, eyes sparkling. He forces a nervous laugh, scratching the back of his neck, trying not to look anywhere but your face, even though his gaze keeps flickering down in spite of himself. “Yeah…nice save,” he mutters, voice tight, cheeks burning. The tension between you both hums in the quiet of the room, the movie forgotten for just a few seconds as your proximity and the way you move sets his heart racing.

The movie’s been playing for a while now, the both of you leaning back against the headboard. You’re trying to keep your eyes on the screen, but Anton’s quiet presence beside you is almost louder than the sound coming from the TV. Halfway through, he lets out a soft sigh and stretches, lifting his arms above his head.

The hem of his loose white shirt rides up just enough to reveal a sliver of skin—smooth and pale, with a faint trail of hair dipping below the waistband of his pyjama pants. The faint outline of toned muscle is enough to make your breath hitch.

You don’t even realize you’re staring until you bite your lip without thinking. Anton freezes mid-stretch, his arms lowering quickly. When his eyes meet yours, he notices the way you’re looking at him. His face turns pink instantly. “Uh—” he starts, voice awkward and a little high, “comfortable?”

“Mhm.” you hum, looking back at the screen as if you hadn’t just been caught shamelessly staring. But then you notice something. Out of the corner of your eye, his gaze drifts downward… to your thighs. You’re sitting with them pressed together, the fabric of your shorts hugging your skin in a way that leaves very little to the imagination. His eyes linger for a few seconds too long before darting back up.

You catch it. You definitely catch it. But you don’t say anything. The air between you feels warmer now, charged with something unspoken. You try to focus on the film, but your heartbeat is loud in your ears. Somewhere around the hour mark, the coziness of his room and the warmth of his body next to yours start to lull you to sleep. Your head dips before you even realize it, landing softly against his chest.

Anton stiffens instantly. His eyes widen, and for a moment, he looks like he’s trying to compute what just happened. His heartbeat spikes, and he’s sure you can feel it under your cheek. You mumble something incoherent in your sleep and shift, curling slightly toward him until your arm almost wraps around his. His face turns a deeper shade of red. He doesn’t know where to put his hands.

He tells himself not to move. Not to touch you. If you woke up, you might think he was taking advantage of the situation. But then…he can’t help it. Slowly, carefully, his hand lifts to your hair. His fingers brush against it tentatively, then slide through the strands with the lightest touch. He pets your head so gently, as though afraid you might shatter if he pressed any harder.

The smell of your shampoo drifts up to him, and it makes his chest feel tight in a way he can’t quite explain. He’s so wrapped up in the moment that when your voice suddenly breaks the silence, his heart nearly jumps out of his chest. “Will you ever ask me on a date,” you murmur, voice groggy but teasing, “or do I have to do it?”

Anton freezes, every muscle going rigid. “You’re…awake?” he says softly, almost as if he’s in disbelief. You still don’t open your eyes, your cheek warm against him. “I have been for a while.” you admit with a faint smile.

His hand stills in your hair, and he swallows hard. “Oh…uh…I mean…if you want to go on a date with me…” Finally, you tilt your head up just enough to look at him, your smile small but certain. “I do.” He swears his chest has never felt so light and tight at the same time.

Anton’s lips twitch into the smallest smile, and he nods. “Okay then.” His voice is soft, almost shy. Slowly, reluctantly, he begins to lift his hand from your hair. “No.” you murmur, catching his wrist before he can pull away. His brows lift slightly, startled. You guide his hand right back onto your head, fingers threading gently through yours for a second before you let go. “Keep doing it…I like it.”

The tips of his ears turn pink, his throat bobbing as he swallows. “O-okay…” he says quietly, the faintest smile curling on his lips. And so, he keeps going, his fingertips brushing through your hair in slow, absent strokes while your attention drifts back to the TV. His heart is still racing, but there’s a strange calm in the rhythm of touching you like this.

By the time the movie ends, you’re wide awake again. You slip on your shoes while he stands by the door, watching you with that same gentle, slightly awkward expression. When you step into the doorway, you tilt your chin up at him, hands clasped behind your back, eyes wide and soft. “So…I’ll see you tomorrow?” He nods quickly, his Adam’s apple shifting as he swallows. “Y-yeah…” The corners of his mouth lift into a quiet smile. “It’s a date then! Goodnight, Toni.” You stand on your toes, leaning in to press a quick kiss to his cheek.

The warmth of your lips lingers there, and Anton freezes, eyes widening before color floods his face. He blinks, flustered, clearly at a loss for words. “Goodnight.” he finally manages, giving you a small wave as you head down the hall. The door closes softly, and he leans back against it, pressing his palm over the spot you kissed, his heart hammering like it’s trying to escape.

When you stepped out to meet Anton, you didn’t miss the way his eyes widened before darting away, a flush creeping up his neck. White thigh-high socks, a short skirt, and a soft fitted sweater—it was exactly the kind of outfit you’d seen on some of the girls in his posters and figurines, and you knew it.

“Hey!” you greeted with an innocent smile, pretending you didn’t notice how his gaze kept flickering to your legs before he forced himself to focus on your face. “Hi,” he said quickly, rubbing the back of his neck. “You, uh…ready?”

The arcade was loud and bright, neon lights reflecting off his glasses. You started at the air hockey table, where you made an exaggerated show of celebrating each point you scored, and he just shook his head with that quiet, amused smile he always wore around you now. Then it was racing games—he won, of course, but the little spark of pride in his eyes told you he liked seeing you try to beat him.

“Okay, okay,” you said, catching your breath, “one more thing.” You tugged on his sleeve, leading him toward the claw machines. Your eyes landed on a soft, pastel plush near the center of one, and you pointed. “That one.” He stepped forward, feeding coins into the machine, and muttered under his breath each time the claw slipped. “This is rigged.” He scoffed.

“You just have to believe in yourself.” you teased, resting your elbow lightly on his arm. By the fourth try, the claw finally lifted the plush all the way to the chute. You squealed, grabbing it and hugging it to your chest. “My hero!” His ears turned pink immediately, especially when you added, “Thanks, Toni!”

“I—uh—yeah… you’re welcome,” he stammered, trying to hide a smile. When you hooked your hand around his arm in excitement, he went stock-still, like every muscle in his body froze at once. You felt the warmth under his sweater sleeve, and his heartbeat felt a little faster than normal, but he didn’t pull away.

As you stepped out of the arcade, still clutching the plush to your chest, your eyes caught a small ice cream shop glowing warmly on the corner. “Oh my god! Let’s go!” you gasped, pointing, not waiting for his answer before your fingers slipped into his hand. You tugged him toward it, the warmth of his palm making his steps a little hesitant, like he wasn’t sure if he should hold back or just let you lead.

Inside, the place smelled like sugar and fresh waffle cones. You picked vanilla without hesitation, grinning as the server handed it to you. Anton shook his head when they asked him, mumbling, “I’m fine.” but when you reached for your wallet, he was already pulling out his own cash. “Anton—” “Nope,” he said, eyes dropping to the counter, “I’ve got it.” You beamed, leaning up on your toes to press a quick kiss to his cheek. “Thank you, Toni.” The heat in his ears spread to his neck instantly, and he muttered something under his breath you couldn’t quite catch.

You both sat outside on the shop’s little chairs, the evening air cool against your skin. You took slow licks of your ice cream, savoring it, completely unaware (or maybe not) of the way his gaze kept flicking to your mouth. Every time you let your tongue glide over the melting vanilla, he shifted in his seat, red creeping over his cheeks again. When you wrapped your lips around the tip of the cone, sucking lightly to keep it from dripping, he swallowed hard, his thoughts skittering somewhere very far from ice cream.

By the time you finished, you licked your lips, smiling at him like nothing was out of the ordinary. “Okay, we can go now!” He stood up a little too quickly, adjusting his pajama pants in a subtle, desperate motion. “Y-yeah…let’s go.”

The walk back started off quiet, the night air soft and cool against your skin. You were still clutching the plushie in one arm, your other hand swinging loosely at your side. Anton walked next to you, hands shoved deep into his hoodie, every now and then glancing at you like he wanted to say something but couldn’t quite bring himself to.

Halfway down the block, you slowed your steps and then stopped entirely, turning to face him. Your lips curved into a small pout, eyes glimmering with something a little sad. “I don’t want this date to end yet.” you said softly, toeing the pavement. He froze, caught off guard, his breath visible in the cool air. The tips of his ears flushed pink. “We…could go to my place again,” he offered shyly, then, with a small smile, “Watch something?”

Your pout melted instantly into a grin. “Mhm! Yes, please.” You stepped forward and slipped your hand into his without warning, your fingers curling through his. Anton stiffened in surprise, eyes widening for just a second before his gaze darted away. He didn’t pull back though. If anything, his hand tightened slightly around yours.

You began swinging your joined hands back and forth in an exaggerated, playful rhythm, and his mouth twitched into a smile despite himself. Neither of you said much more, but the silence was comfortable now, each step bringing you closer to the dorms…and whatever would happen next.

By the time you reached his building, Anton still hadn’t let go of your hand. You didn’t point it out, you just smiled to yourself and followed him inside. His dorm room was exactly how you remembered it from last time—tidy, cozy, softly lit, with the faint scent of his shampoo still lingering from earlier. You kicked off your shoes and, without hesitation, plopped down onto the edge of his bed, hugging your plush to your chest.

He closed the door behind him, rubbing the back of his neck as he glanced at you. “Uh…what do you wanna watch?” You leaned back onto your hands, swinging your legs slightly. “Anything you want, Toni.” You said it cheerfully, the nickname rolling off your tongue in that way you knew made him blush.

And blush he did. He turned to his desk, pretending to scroll through his streaming options just to give himself a second to recover. “Okay…um how about A Silent Voice?” You nodded instantly. “Perfect.” He climbed onto the bed beside you, the mattress dipping under his weight.

At first, there was a polite little space between you—but as the opening scenes played, your legs brushed once, then twice. Neither of you pulled away. The warmth of him was right there, just inches from you, and you could already feel the air between you shifting, thickening, the same way it had last time.

The movie played softly in the background, the purple glow from the LEDs making the whole room feel hotter. You were sitting closer and cloer, each touch sending a little spark up your spine. At one point, Anton shifted, his arm resting on the bed behind you, and you leaned slightly into him without thinking. A quiet moment in the movie made you glance at him, and you caught him already looking at you. Neither of you moved.

His hair was sticking up a little in the front, and without thinking, you reached up to smooth it down. Your fingers lingered, brushing his forehead. You felt his breath hitch. When your hand dropped back to your lap, the space between you felt electric. You could hear your own heartbeat in your ears. “Anton.” you said softly. He hummed, almost nervously, “Hm?”

“Kiss me.” For a second, he froze—his wide eyes searching your face like he was making sure you meant it. And then, slowly, he leaned in. The first brush of his lips was hesitant, testing, but you pressed closer, kissing him back, and that tiny hesitation melted away. His hand came up to cup your cheek, warm and careful, as the kiss deepened. You shifted, closing the space entirely, and before you knew it you were in his lap, your knees on either side of him.

His breath caught against your mouth, and he gripped your waist like he was scared you’d pull away. But you didn’t. You rolled your hips experimentally, and his quiet, shaky whimper made you smile against his lips. Anton kissed you like he was afraid to mess it up, but the moment you tangled your fingers in his hair and gave a gentle tug, something inside him faltered. His breath stuttered, and you felt the way his grip on your waist tighten.

You deepened the kiss, your mouth moving against his with a slow hunger. His lips were soft, but the way he kissed you now was firmer, almost desperate. You tugged on his hair again, a little harder this time, and he let out the smallest, most breathless sound into your mouth. It made heat pool low in your stomach.

You whimpered—not loud, just enough for it to slip past your lips, and that sound seemed to wreck him. He shifted under you, his thighs tensing, and you felt the hardness pressing against you through his sweatpants. His breathing got heavier, more uneven, as you rolled your hips just enough to test him.

“Y-you’re…” he broke off, swallowing hard, his cheeks flushed deep red. He didn’t finish the sentence, just leaned forward to kiss you harder, like he couldn’t stop himself anymore. His hands slid up your sides, hesitant but needy, bunching the hem of your sweater as his thumbs brushed the bare skin of your waist.

Every little whimper from you made him twitch under you, his self-control fraying by the second. He didn’t even notice how tightly he was holding you until you pulled back slightly, both of you catching your breath, foreheads touching, his chest rising and falling quickly.

His hands, still trembling slightly, slid down from your waist to your thighs, caressing slowly as if he couldn’t believe he was allowed to touch you. The soft fabric of your thigh-high socks under his palms made his breath hitc, every inch of exposed skin between them and your skirt had him swallowing hard.

You could feel the way he was hesitating, his fingertips barely grazing, almost shy. So you reached down, took one of his hands gently, and guided it under the hem of your skirt until it rested against the warm fabric of your panties. His eyes widened, his entire body freezing for a second. “Please…touch me.” you pouted, your voice soft but desperate, looking up at him through your lashes.

Anton’s jaw clenched, his cheeks burning crimson. “I–I…” he stammered, clearly overwhelmed, but his fingers flexed ever so slightly against you, already feeling the dampness there. He swallowed, gaze flicking from your pleading expression to where his hand was between your legs, like he couldn’t believe this was really happening.

Slowly, hesitantly, he started to stroke you through the thin fabric, his breathing quickening with every tiny sound you made. The warmth and wetness beneath his touch sent a shiver through him, and when you whimpered again, he bit his lip hard, fighting the urge to just tear the panties aside and fuck you right there and there.

Anton’s breath was coming faster now, his fingers rubbing gentle, nervous circles over your clothed clit. The friction had you rolling your hips down against his touch, but every movement also pressed you into the growing bulge beneath his sweatpants. You couldn’t help it, you shifted closer, grinding lightly against him as his breath hitched, his other hand gripping the bed sheets like he didn’t know where else to put it.

You reached for that hand, guiding it up to your chest. His eyes flicked to yours in surprise, but when you placed it over your breast, his fingers curled instinctively, squeezing through your sweater and bra. The combination of his touches had you letting out a soft, shaky whimper against his lips, which made him groan quietly into the kiss. It wasn’t enough. You wanted to feel him, really feel him.

You broke the kiss for just a moment, your lips wet and swollen, and slid your panties down your thighs, kicking them aside on the bed. Without giving him time to process, you took his hand again, the one that had been rubbing you through the thin fabric, and guided it between your legs until his fingers met your bare, slick pussy.

Anton froze, a sharp breath escaping him, his pupils blown wide. His fingertips twitched slightly against you before he swallowed hard, the sound loud in the quiet room. “You’re…s-so warm.” he whispered, almost like he was talking to himself.

His thumb kept rubbing slow, deliberate circles on your clit, and you couldn’t stop yourself from rocking against his hand, chasing that sharp, sweet pleasure. Your breath came out in shaky bursts, your skirt bunched up around your hips, his eyes glued to the way you moved for him.

Then, without warning, you felt the gentle press of his finger slipping inside you. Your back arched instantly, a gasp spilling from your lips that quickly melted into a needy moan. “Ah—Anton!” you whined, your thighs trembling slightly as he moved that finger in and out of you in slow, careful motions.

His gaze flicked up to your face, flushed and focused. “Is that…okay?” he asked softly, almost like he was scared to break the moment. You nodded fast, your voice urgent. “More.” His lips parted, chest rising quickly, he didn’t hesitate. He slid another finger inside you. The stretch had you letting out a broken whimper, and his breath stuttered at the sound. He kept his pace gentle, curling them just enough to make your hips jerk.

His fingers moved inside you faster now, curling expertly as he matched the rhythm of your hips grinding against him. Every wet, slippery sound of your arousal seemed to drive him further, and he couldn’t help the small, shaky moans that escaped his lips.

You tugged at his hair, hard enough to make him gasp, and he let out a sharp, breathy whine, eyes closing for a split second. His pace didn’t falte. If anything, it quickened, fingers plunging deeper, curling just right to hit all the right spots. The room was filled with the slick, wet sounds of your pleasure and the occasional whimper or gasp that slipped past your lips.

Every noise you made made him harder beneath you, his own need pressing against your clothed heat. He leaned down, pressing his forehead to yours for a second, watching your expression contort with pleasure, and whispered, almost desperately, “You feel so good…”

As he kept fingering you, his other hand wandered nervously over his lap. You felt the hard outline of him through his sweatpants and palmed him gently. A small, shaky whimper escaped his lips, and you looked up at him, eyes wide and pleading. “Want you inside...” you breathed, voice soft and desperate. The sight of you like that—lips slightly parted, cheeks flushed, chest rising and falling—made him stiffen even more.

You slowly peeled off your sweater and bra, tossing them aside, and he couldn’t stop staring. His hands trembled slightly, but finally he pulled his own shirt off, revealing the toned chest and abs. Your breath hitched, and heat pooled low in your belly, you were already dripping just from looking at him.

You took him in your hand, drooling at how big and hard and pretty he was, slick with precum. A soft whine escaped him at your touch. Slowly, carefully, you began sliding down onto him, lips parted and breathing uneven. His length hit you and made you gasp, it was more than you expected, and you struggled a little to take him in fully.

“You’re so big, Toni…” you whimpered, the words shaking as your hips pressed down. He let out a deep moan at your words, fingers gripping your hips lightly, trying to help guide you, while his eyes stayed locked on your face, full of need and disbelief. You finally bottomed out with a sharp, breathy moan, and he immediately groaned, gripping your hips tightly. “F-fuck…” he stammered, voice low and shaky, eyes wide as he tried to take it all in.

Clinging to him, your arms wrapped around his neck, you started moving slowly, rocking up and down against him. Every little thrust made him whimper softly, his lips parting in short gasps. His hands pressed against your waist, thumbs brushing over your sides as you moved, both of you making quiet, desperate sounds. The tension and pleasure wrapped tightly around you, leaving no space for anything else.

“Toni…” you whispered between breaths, voice trembling, chest rising and falling. “S-s’big…” you added, eyes fluttering shut, heat pooling between your thighs as you slowly rode him, both of you lost in the new, intense sensations. You cupped his cheeks, leaning in close, and kissed him hard, teeth and lips mingling, tongues brushing. The feel of him beneath you, soft and firm at the same time, made your body tremble.

You started moving faster, bouncing and whispering in between shallow, desperate kisses, “Want you…feels so good…” Anton was a blushing mess, sitting there stunned, barely able to process how breathtaking you looked taking him like this. He let out a quiet, shaky whimper, unable to resist just watching you, the way your hips rolled and your chest pressed to his, the scent and sight of you overwhelming him.

Then, you pulled your lips back from his briefly, gasping, and as you continued bouncing, you pressed a hand flat against your belly. “Can feel you up here, Toni,” you whined, eyes half-lidded and desperate. That was it. Something snapped in him. Heat surged, his pupils blown wide, and he moaned deeply, leaning forward to grab your waist tightly. His hands dug into your hips as he started bouncing you hard on him, quick, punishing thrusts that made you gasp and whimper.

The switch had flipped—the shy, hesitant boy from earlier was gone. Every motion was confident, dominant, controlled. His eyes locked on yours as he guided your movements, his mouth open in low, needy moans, taking over completely as he rode you through the pleasure he’d been holding back.

The sudden shift in Anton’s behavior made your eyes go wide. The man under you, replaced with someone fierce, commanding, and hungry for you. Every hard, quick thrust made you gasp, moan, and shiver, high-pitched, desperate sounds spilled uncontrollably from your lips as he drove into you. He leaned down, pressing a hand to your chest, cupping your breast and rolling your nipple between his fingers. “You’re so fucking tight.” he groaned, voice low and serious.

You immediately clenched around him at that, your body responding to every word. “Fuck…you’re so wet.” he continued, sliding his hand a little, teasing and grinding as he kept his pace relentless. Your moans grew louder, each one feeding him, making him fuck into you harder, faster. Every time he hit that spot just right, a whimper escaped you, and you tugged at his hair desperately, needing to feel him closer.

His eyes rolled back at the sight of you writhing beneath him, every flicker of your expression only spurring him on. “You feel so good…so fucking good for me,” he whispered, low and dirty, each word a promise and a command. “Such a good girl…gonna make you scream for me.”

Your hands clutched at his shoulders, nails digging in as the pleasure built unbearably high. His fingers dug into your hips and your chest, his dirty words and praise mixing with the way he pounded in you, making your vision blur and your body shiver uncontrollably under him.

His hand slid down from your breast, fingers circling your clit with a firm, insistent rhythm. Every motion made your hips buck uncontrollably, your breaths coming in short, desperate gasps. “Toni…m’so close…” you whimpered, voice high and trembling, moans spilling past your lips as pleasure coiled tighter and tighter in your stomach.

“Fuck—cum for me, baby,” he groaned, voice low and ragged, heat radiating off him. “You’re so fucking hot.” The pet name, him calling you baby for the first time, had an immediate effect. Your walls clenched around him, your toes curling, and a high-pitched, broken moan tore from your throat as you came hard, shivering against him.

He didn’t hesitate. He captured your lips in a hard, hungry kiss, pressing you flush against him as his hand moved to cradle the side of your throat, gentle pressure just enough to make your breath hitch. You whimpered into the kiss, muffled, overwhelmed by the combination of sensations—the taste of him, the feel of him, and how your walls pulsate around him.

Before you could even process it, Anton’s hands were under your hips, flipping you over onto your back. Your breath hitched, heart racing, but before you could protest, he gently urged you onto all fours, the curve of your ass pressing invitingly toward him. “Anton, I—” you started, breath trembling.

“One more, baby,” he cut in, voice low and commanding, pupils dilated with need. “I know you can do it for me, hm?” You swallowed, cheeks burning, and nodded eagerly. “Yes! Anything for you, Toni!” He smiled, a dangerous, possessive grin spreading across his face. “Good girl.” he murmured, voice rough.

With that, he positioned himself behind you, pressing against your slick pussy before sliding inside you again. The sudden fullness made you gasp, your hands digging into the bed for balance, and he didn’t hesitate to start thrusting, hard and fast, his hands gripping your waist firmly. He slammed into you again, hips snapping hard, hands gripping your waist as he drove in and out with relentless force. “Keep your ass up for me.” he commanded, voice low and rough.

You obeyed instantly, arching into him, a high-pitched whine escaping your lips as he hit that sensitive spot perfectly. The aftershocks of your previous orgasm made every motion even more intense, every touch unbearable in the best way. “You like it, baby? Me fucking you like this?” he asked, voice thick with lust, leaning close so his breath ghosted over your back.

“Mhm!!” you moaned, barely coherent, your nails digging into the bedsheets. “Fuck—say my name, baby.” he demanded, thrusts rougher, faster, more insistent. “Toni…!” you whimpered, voice shaky and desperate, clinging to the bed as he pounded into you, each stroke hitting harder and harder, making your back arch and your chest press to the mattress.

A sharp, hard smack landed on your ass, leaving a red handprint. You gasped loudly, the sting sending shivers of pleasure through you, your hips jerking involuntarily. “Fuck, baby…look at you,” he groaned, eyes dark and hungry. “Taking me so well…so perfect for me.”

Another slap landed on your other cheek, and you whimpered, pressing back into him. He grinned, low and possessive, tugging roughly at a handful of your hair to tilt your head just right. “Such a good girl…you like it when I spank you like this, hm?” he whispered, voice thick and rough, each word dripping with lust. You moaned, voice shaky, “Y-yes!…please, Toni…”

He responded with another hard smack, this time letting his hand linger, fingertips digging slightly into your skin as he pressed your ass against him. “So fucking wet, baby. You’re mine.” His other hand twisted through your hair again, tugging gently to make you arch back, giving him better access, and he leaned closer to your ear. “Tell me how good it feels… say it for me, baby.”

“So good, Toni!—Nghh!” you moaned, your hips practically slamming into him from your own desperation. His hand moved from your waist to your belly, pressing down just enough to make you moan loudly, hips jerking against him. “You feel me here, baby? So deep in you, yeah?” he groaned, voice low and rough.

You nodded uncontrollably, eyes watering from the overwhelming pleasure. He pressed down harder on your stomach, leaning back slightly to take in the sight of you—skirt bunched at your waist, thigh-high socks stretching over your legs, body pressed perfectly against him. “You’re so fucking cute…with your cute socks,” he murmured, voice thick with lust, his hand moving to squeeze your ass firmly. “Fuck, baby…so pretty. You know what you’re doing to me, hm?”

You nodded again and he smirked, a low chuckle escaping him. Without warning, his hand came down hard on your ass, leaving a stinging slap that made you yelp and moan at the same time. “You’re mine, baby,” he breathed, voice rough, eyes dark and intense. “Every inch of you…all mine.”

He kept slamming into you, each thrust hitting that perfect spot, his hand sliding down to circle your clit in tight, fast motions. “M’so close—ah!” you whimpered, voice trembling, your legs starting to shake. “Fuck, baby…me too.” he groaned, hips moving faster, almost desperate. That strange, overwhelming pressure built deep in your abdomen, making you gasp. “Toni! S’too m–much!”

“But you take it so well, baby,” he growled, his voice rough and filthy in your ear, “you’re such a good girl for me.” You cried, “Fuck! Anton!”, body tightening before the release hit you all at once—hot, messy, unstoppable. Your thighs trembled as you squirted around him, the sound of it mixing with his moan as he pounded you through it.

“Shit…you just squirted all over me…fuck, you’re perfect.” Anton groaned, his voice low and wrecked. You moaned at his words, your body still trembling from release. Before you could catch your breath, he pulled out abruptly, flipping you onto your back with surprising strength. His messy hair fell over his forehead, his flushed face twisted in pleasure as his hand pumped his cock fast.

The sight of you—skirt messy, socks on, your stomach rising and falling with every shaky breath, it pushed him over the edge. With a loud, broken whimper, he came hard, spilling hot ropes across your belly and chest, his shoulders tensing as his hips jerked. Anton stayed kneeling between your legs, chest heaving, hair a total mess. His wide eyes followed every rise and fall of your stomach as he tried to catch his breath.

You dragged your fingers through the warm mess on your belly, scooping some up without breaking eye contact. His gaze locked on you, pupils blown, as you slowly brought your fingers to your lips and licked them clean. He let out a strangled sound, half groan, half whimper, before whispering, “Holy…fucking…shit.”

You barely had time to smile before he leaned forward, kissing you hard, his hands cradling your face like he couldn’t get enough. “You’re the best girl, baby.” he murmured against your mouth, voice still wrecked. You tugged on his hair gently, and he sighed into the kiss, finally collapsing beside you.

A few moments later, you were lying flat on the bed, his head resting against your chest while your fingers played lazily with his hair, feeling the rapid thump of his heartbeat slowly calm. You’re lying there, feeling his warmth against you, your fingers lazily combing through his messy hair. The room is quiet except for the soft hum of the AC. “Anton?” you say suddenly, voice quiet and soft.

He hums against your chest, “Mm?” You swallow, heart thumping. “Will you be my boyfriend?” His head lifts immediately, eyes wide and cheeks flushing a deep pink. “A-are you for real?” You pout a little, glancing away before looking back at him. “Anton…you just made me squirt, I’ve never done that before…and besides—” you bite your lip, “I really like you. A lot.”

His mouth parts slightly, like he’s lost for words. Then, with a shaky little laugh, he leans in, pressing a lingering kiss to your lips. “I like you too…like really fucking like you. And yeah—yeah, I’ll be your boyfriend.” You grin, cheeks warm, and pull him back down against your chest, feeling him smile into your skin.

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[meltoning]

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